Who Drabbled What?
by TakingAChanceOnJelly
Summary: How can a person tell a story in 100 words? We tried many times. We have humor, friendships, romance, smut, angst, love, loss and the occasional embarrassing moment. See if you can tell who drabbled what. All characters; all seasons. GSR all the way.
1. Chapter 1

TITLE: Who drabbled what?  
AUTHOR: MSCSIFANGSR and JellyBeanChiChi  
RATING: Mature at times.  
DISCLAIMER: We don't own them, we just play with them.  
SPOILERS: Every show aired in the U.S. to date and can be AU at times.

Each drabble is 100 words, some are double drabbles of 200 words and all together there will be 200 drabbles, half written by one writer and half by the other. There will be 20 Chapters total in this group of stories and they are complete. We will post every couple of days to keep things interesting.

The biggest part of this story comes from you the reader: we will be having chapter contests to see if you readers can tell which drabble was written by which writer. It is up to the reader to respond in a review to tell us 'who drabbled what'. The person who guesses correctly will be given the honor of having their name posted in the next chapter. (Sorry, we couldn't think of a better prize than that, since WP is otherwise occupied...LOL.

Also all the prompts we've received have been given to us by some wonderful writers and readers from this site. Thanks everyone.

Now on to the fun!

Prompts given by: **SylvieT**: 1. Lycra 2. Pipette 3. Pupae 4. Baton 5. Free-falling.  
Prompts given by: **Durban**: 6. Scent 7. Ache 8. Shy 9. Aerola 10. Glimpse.

* * *

Hodges was droning about the errant **lycra** fiber he'd found on a victim's clothes.

Grissom's undisguised longing gazes only moments before Hodges bust into the break room lingered in Sara's mind. She didn't hear a word Hodges said.

Fantasies should be private.

"Hodges, do you mind? We'd like to be alone." Grissom effectively ordered Hodges out the room.

As the lab tech slowly backed out of the room, carefully hoping not to fall down and embarrass himself in front of his idol Gil Grissom. It never entered his mind to question why Grissom and Sara needed to be alone.

* * *

Greg placed the **pipette** into the test tube.

He had been ordered by Catherine to compare a sample of her DNA with the latest suspect in an on-going investigation. He didn't think much about the request. She had been a CSI for a long time and surely she knew what was right and wrong.

Several minutes later, he held up his right hand with his fingers splayed apart, silently lowering one as the seconds counted down. A piece of 8 ½ x 11 inch paper slipped out of the printer.

He read the results, thinking, "We have a winner."

* * *

Grissom used tweezers to lift the **pupae**-casing off of the body, which had been discovered in a mining shaft, but his mind wasn't on his task at hand.

He felt himself harden slightly at the mental image of the woman he'd left in his bed: the nude Sara Sidle sleeping, sprawled out over the majority of his bed.

He shook his head to remove his thoughts as David Phillips looked on, questioning him wordlessly.

"It's nothing David, just wishing I was still at home in bed." Grissom lamented.

"I understand. I didn't get much sleep last night either."

* * *

Ecklie read over an excellent resume from a criminalist from **Baton** Rouge, Louisiana.

He decided if the person did well in the interview, they would be the last piece in the reorganization of swing-shift.

He'd interviewed for the two positions that were becoming vacant when Stokes and Brown returned to graveyard and had offered the supervisor position Willows had actively given up to one of his day-shift employees. He hired a level-2 from Bakerfield the day before.

Ecklie almost wished he hadn't promised Grissom the return of his team. He knew he had to do it or lose them all.

* * *

Gilbert Grissom felt that he was **free-falling** as he looked upon the beauty and majesty of the woman standing before him, nude.

Time and space ceased to exist.

The world ceased to exist.

Only the two of them mattered as she wordlessly approached him, wrapped her arms around his upper back then captured his lips with her own.

Their bodies pressed together in an age old erotic dance: there was nothing else.

His hands sought out her hips, drawing her closer, if possible, to him.

They swayed in time with the quiet jazz in the background.

Nothing mattered but this.

* * *

The scent of the **lemon** body wash filled the shower, neither of the occupants really noticed or even cared.

They were far more concerned with each other; how it felt to kiss that spot just beneath her ear or the sensation of his soapy hands creeping down her torso.

"I need you inside me," her husky voice demanded.

He made the move to pin her against the shower wall, but when he did, his foot slipped. They found themselves on the floor with the water trickling over their bodies.

Laughing, he said, "It would be safer in bed, my dear."

* * *

"I've got a tummy **ache**."

"You sound like a kid trying to trick their way into staying home instead of going to school." Grissom sounded agitated instead of the sympathy she'd envisioned.

She promptly stuck out her bottom lip and looked up at him with those big, brown puppy-dog eyes.

"You're being childish." His tone hadn't changed.

"No, I'm not," she pouted.

He reached across the bed, grabbed her arm, then drug her to his side of the bed. Touching her forehead, "You don't have any fever."

"I know, I'm not sick, I'm pregnant."

* * *

The legendary basketball coach of WLVU was sitting in the coffee shop sipping a 'Perrier' while eating a bag of baked potato chips when Grissom and Sara walked in.

"Coach," Grissom nodded as the couple eased into the chairs at his table.

"Gil, who is this lovely creature?"

"My fiancée, Sara Sidle. Sara, this is Coach Larry Creel, an old poker buddy."

Sara reached to shake the man's hand, but instead he lifted her hand to his mouth and placed a kiss just beneath her knuckles.

"I forgot to warn you, Sara, he's not **shy**."

* * *

The body on the morgue table had a distinct ornament attached through its right **areola**.

Albert Robbins stared at the sight in amazement. He turned to Grissom who was standing next to him wearing a blue lab coat.

"I've never seen anything like that, ever." Robbins lamented.

Grissom shook his head in agreement; he reached for his phone and began texting. When he was finished, Grissom showed his cell phone to his friend, "Young Sanders seems to have a pulse on the current happenings of society. I'm sure he'll know what it is."

"I certainly hope so."

* * *

He remembered his very first **glimpse** of her.

She strode confidently across the parking lot toward the lecture hall, but didn't notice him as he stood outside the building smoking a cigarette to calm his nerves, watching her every movement, before she disappeared.

He was scheduled to speak on a recent case to several CSI's from San Francisco; his old friend Malcolm had roped into the speech.

He thought wistfully he would much rather pursue the lovely brown haired girl than speak this afternoon.

When he looked up from the podium and saw her sitting in his audience, he smiled.

* * *

TBC

We promise to tell 'who drabbled what' in the next chapter.

Happy Holidays to all our readers and friends. Hope you enjoy this "Christmas gift" of sorts :-)


	2. Chapter 2

Who Drabbled What?  
Chapter Two  
By MSCSIFANGSR and JellyBeanChiChi

Drabbles 1-10 from the last chapter were all written by MSCSIFANGSR.  
Prompts given by** SeattleCSIfan**: 11. Edward G. Robinson 12. Ice Station Zebra 13. Popsicle 14. Astroglide 15. Steel String Guitar (DoubleDrabble).  
Prompts given by **CSIgeekfan**: 16. Sandlot, 17. Pink Panther 18. goliath 19. Space Shuttle 20. Aliens.

The person who correctly answered 'Who drabbled what?' from the first chapter was **_Sillym3_**! Congratulations.

* * *

"How did you know that answer?"

Nick recited the double Jeopardy! question: This Romanian-born actor appears in five films with Humphrey Bogart. Sara answered correctly: **Edward G. Robinson**.

"I watched "Little Caesar' the other night."

"Oh," it dawned on Nick. "You watched it on a channel that runs facts across the bottom of the screen, right?"

"Yeah, sure," Sara said as she left.

Grissom entered the breakroom. "Hey Griss. You like Edward G. Robinson?"

"Sure. I watched 'Little Caesar' the other night."

"Oh, on that channel that tells you facts about the movie?"

"No. I just rented it."

Nick wondered...

* * *

He had the flu, and she asked if he needed anything.

Theraflu and cough drops: Check. But she had to go 20 miles for his third item. And how was she going to get it without getting it all over her pants or car?

She drove the Denali with its blue lights flashing.

He smiled as she arrived and gave him his medicine. But then he asked, "What's this?"

"A melted vanilla-chocolate zebra cone in a cup. Babe, what did you expect?"

"A DVD. '**Ice Station Zebra**' is a movie."

"And 'Ice Station' is an ice cream shoppe in Henderson."

* * *

Grissom covered his sneeze before dipping his spoon into the cup of melted ice cream and its soggy cone.

"You don't have to eat that," Sara said.

"You got it for me."

"Stop," Sara teased as she gently took the cup away.

Grissom had the spoon in his mouth and playfully refused to relinquish it.

"Give me the spoon."

Grissom shook his head.

"Why not?"

"It's cool and refreshing," he mumbled.

Sara went to the kitchen and returned with a **popsicle**. "Suck on this."

"If I take that now, can I use that line on you later?"

"We'll see, Romeo."

* * *

The team used Grissom's and Sara's reunion as an excuse to host a party. Greg arrived with two presents in identical wrapping paper. "Present time! Present time! Open the present and see what's inside!"

"Either one?" Grissom asked.

Greg nodded, so Grissom choose a gift and upon opening it, his eyes lit up.

Yet, Sara seemed shocked. "I expected a box full of condoms and **Astroglide**. But this is beautiful."

Grissom displayed the crystal photo frame with butterflies inlaid in the glass.

"Is the other gift from you?"

Greg fidgeted nervously. "This? ... Oh, no ... it's from ... Ecklie."

* * *

Sara stood unsteadily after laboring hours over the layout table attempting to reassemble the murder weapon in her latest investigation. She took a deep breath, then stretching her body out to compensate for the time spent hunched over reassembling the fragmented wooden pieces and fractured steel bits.

That was how Grissom found her: stretching her body. His own response to the rise of her breasts and arms slightly flailing was immediate, but foresight was the better part of valor. He'd worn his baggy pants to work, again.

"How's the investigation going?"

Sara looked up sharply at the sound of her boss/lover's voice. He was supposed to have been off that evening and she wondered why he was standing before her.

He continued without waiting for her response. "The murder weapon was a **steel string guitar**?"

"One of the vic's band members knocked him senseless over some girl in the crowd."

"Open and shut case?" She nodded, looking over the evidence.

"Then I'm here to rescue you."

She looked up sharply and brought her index finger to her lips as she slightly raised her eyebrows in question.

"Come home, dear. I need you very badly."

* * *

"I love this movie!" Grissom grabbed the remote control out of Sara's hand as they were sprawled out, comfortably laying on top of the brown comforter Sara had recently purchased at 'Bed, Bath & Beyond'.

Sara was channel surfing, mumbling about the lack of quality television when Grissom startled her by stealing the clicker from her.

"What's it about?"

"Baseball."

"Figures..."

"And a big slobbery mutt."

Sara smiled, glancing over at Hank. "What's the name of the movie?"

"The **Sandlot**."

"Okay, let's watch it."

Grissom smiled and hugged her closer to him as his eyes were glued to the screen.

* * *

It was their last night together for a while. She lectured him about that snotty research assistant with whom he should never share a beverage, meal or anything.

Now it was Grissom's turn.

"Make sure Greg doesn't persuade you to touch his **Pink Panther**."

"Gil, please tell me you don't mean..."

"It's what he calls it," he said with a serious face.

Sara laughed. "Babe, that is absolutely disgusting. I can't believe you know what Greg Sanders calls his penis."

"You would be amazed of what I overheard in the breakroom."

They both laughed. God, they would miss each other.

* * *

Sara stood breathless from her struggle to get to the top of the steep incline. She surveyed the **goliath** rock formations before her in the great expanse of the backdrop of the desert.

Her arm was hurting, badly. She just wanted to see some form of civilization. And what she got was more sand, hills and rocks.

_5 times 4 is 20._

The sun's rays were murder at this time of day. There wasn't an ounce of shade anywhere in her line of sight. And it wouldn't be dark for another 8 or so hours.

_5 times 5 is 25._

* * *

Sara watched as the **space shuttle** exploded before her every eyes on the small television screen. It was January 28, 1986; only 23 days after her father had been stabbed to death. She didn't feel a thing.

The announcers on the scene kept droning on and on about what a tragic loss to the world, when after 73 seconds into the flight, the shuttle had broken apart in the atmosphere over Florida and all seven crew members had perished.

Sara was 14 years old and now a ward of the state of California. She didn't care about anything. Not anymore.

* * *

Sara and Greg had been sent to a 419 at the Encore casino. When the two experienced CSI's arrived at the newest gambling establishment in Las Vegas, they found themselves in a bit of a quandry. Seems the apparent DB wasn't really dead and no crime had been committed. As the lead CSI on the case, Sara called their supervisior requesting another case.

"Come on Greg, we got a real case involving illegal **aliens**, budweiser and a pickup truck." Sara looked at her former protege.

"Sounds like something Nick should have pulled." Greg laughed.

"Yeah, maybe, but Catherine's the boss."

* * *

TBC

Merry Christmas.


	3. Chapter 3

Who Drabbled What?  
Chapter Three  
By MSCSIFANGSR and JellyBeanChiChi

Drabbles from last chapter written by JellybeanChiChi: 11, 12, 13, 14, 17 and by MSCSIFANGSR: 15, 16, 18, 19, 20.  
Prompts given by** LosingInTranslation**: 21. Rolling Stones 22. Brass (not the detective) 23. Egg 24. Departed 25. Thief  
Prompts given by **Cropper18**: 26. Castration 27. Lemon meringue pie 28. A stuffed mountain lion wearing Easter egg boxer shorts 29. Cameo 30. Miss Clairol #69 (Double Drabble)

The person who came closest to correctly answering 'Who drabbled what?' in the last chapter was **_SylvieT_**! Congratulations.

* * *

"Well, if it isn't *The Glimmer Twins*." Grissom said as the two CSI's walked to the layout room; the odor emanating from their bodies alerted him to their presence well before they entered the room.

"Hey, I'm insulted," grumbled Warrick to the dark haired Texan dressed in the same blue cover-alls he wore.

Nick winked at Warrick, "I'm honored."

"Huh?"

"It's the pseudonym Richards and Jagger use sometimes."

"The **Rolling Stones**?"

"Yeah, I'm Mick..."

"Yeah, you're ugly enough to be Mick."

Grissom cleared his throat to disguise his amusement. "Go get a shower, guys; I'll start with your evidence."

* * *

Sara finished dressing for their date when she heard Grissom turning off the **brass** fixtures of the bathroom sink.

With a pleasant look on his face, Grissom opened the door as he finished buckling his pants. "That's a relief. I just had the biggest poop."

Sara was horrorstruck. "Why did you just share that with me?"

He blushed. "I don't know."

"Why would I want to know that?"

"I…"

"I hope you're happy. We can never eat again."

"Why?"

"Because eating will make you poop and I'm not having this conversation again."

Her face changed. Now she had to poop.

* * *

While examining a scene following several teen overdoses, Grissom, Catherine and Sara waded through mess left behind by young partygoers. "I guess they discussed safe sex," Grissom said, as he examined used condoms on the hotel room floor. "Bolder than me as a teen."

"Young Gil Grissom wasn't a smooth talker?" Catherine asked. "I bet your romantic line was something like, 'To avoid my sperm from infiltrating your **egg** we should construct an appropriate exit strategy.'"

"Or is that what you would say now?" Catherine added, laughing at her own joke.

_Bitch, you'll never know,_ Sara thought.

* * *

"We are here today to lay to rest the dearly **departed**, Warrick Brown. Let us pray." The minister's voice carried through the silence in the church, filled with family, friends, and various law enforcement officers. The Lord's Prayer had never sounded so heart-wrenching.

The group from the crime lab sat tightly together in the first three rows; each grieving for their lost comrade.

The contingency from the police department sat stiffly in full dress uniform, stoic in their appearance.

And a little boy held in his mother's arms sucked on his pacifier, never realizing he'd never know his biological father.

* * *

"What else do you have?" Catherine looked over her reader glasses at the woman.

"I think our murderer is also a **thief**." Riley puffed out her chest and affected a deep intonation that made the her new supervisor almost smile.

"You sounded like Brass."

"Yeah, that was my intent."

Catherine's gaze flickered across the file, then looked up at level-2 CSI: "You can't make judgments based on witness statements."

Riley glowered. "I recovered the vic's missing diamond bracelet, her ipod, and three rings at the perp's residence. I even had a warrant."

Catherine phone rang; Riley left the room.

* * *

Upon the eminent threat of **castration**, Dr. Gilbert A. Grissom decided the better part of valor was to tactfully ignore the menacing growls of his wife.

He held her hand instead.

And that appeared to quell the muttered ramblings of pain and discomfort brought upon her by him, as she had loudly proclaimed to all the nurses, doctors and assorted others who happened to be near their birthing room.

"One more push, dear." That earned him a stern look, but she did so, whether on his command or by nature's, it didn't matter. That push earned them a baby girl.

* * *

The whole gang from the nightshift of the Crime Lab, even various lab techs, who were able to get off work in time, had shown up at Frank's diner for a rare, remarkable celebration, not to joyously ring in the new year or anything as mundane as that, but to celebrate the marriage of two former co-workers, who weren't even in the continental United States. No, they were in Paris, on their honeymoon. Though the newlyweds weren't there, the party continued without alcohol beverages or 'Cheez-It's', nor cake. They all sat crowded together sipping coffee and eating **lemon meringue pie**.

* * *

Grissom stood in front of Bobby Dawson as the usually amiable blond looked poised to strike the man cowering behind Grissom.

"Dawson, calm down," Grissom said. "Hodges will be reprimanded."

"Watch it Hodges!" He exclaimed as he threw down a very small pair of boxers on the floor next to a decapitated fuzzy lion.

"Get in my office. Now David," Grissom huffed.

Greg witnessed the scene and scurried away. After all, he was the one who mysteriously put **a stuffed mountain lion wearing Easter egg boxer shorts** at Hodges' station with a heart that read, "Love, Bobby."

* * *

Grissom, on his knees, was searching the carpet for evidence in the disappearance of a woman from her home. When he found the small, broken **cameo** charm with the silhouette of a woman he placed with other evidence.

When questioning the missing woman's husband, Grissom confronted the man with his find.

"Oh, no. She didn't leave on her own. She was kidnapped."

When the team had found the woman in a deserted warehouse, bound with duct tape to a chair, but unharmed, she was still wearing the bracelet from which the charm had been forcibly removed.

Her husband was arrested.

* * *

"Good God!" Brass barked as the suspect was lead from the room handcuffed by Officer Mitchell. "I was wondering if we'd ever get a confession out of that one."

The two CSI's in the room laughed in relief, although both were staring at the homicide detective and he them, Brass couldn't help but notice that fact the male of the duo had his hand resting on the woman's thigh just slightly in his range of sight, although hampered somewhat by the interrogation room table.

Caressing it, even.

This was new and completely almost expected.

"Sara, can you name the shade of the suspect's hair?"

"Probably **Miss Clairol #69**," she retorted, recieving a nice squeeze on her leg from her boss.

Both men laughed.

"Um, Gil? You want to go have a drink? I feel the need for a Scotch."

"Nope, I've got plans already."

_I'll bet you do, you old snake_, Brass thought, but instead said, "Another time, then?"

Grissom nodded as he and Sara got up from the chair, Gil had his hand firmly planted on her low back.

_Possessive now, even. Glad you finally had the balls to accept her._

"Sara?"

"No, thanks, Jim. I've got plans, too."

* * *

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

Who Drabbled What?  
Chapter Four  
By MSCSIFANGSR and JellyBeanChiChi

Drabbles from last chapter written by JellybeanChiChi: 22, 23, 28; by MSCSIFANGSR: 21,24, 25, 26, 27, 29, 30

Prompts given by **Microgirl8225**: 31. Dog 32. Cereal 33. Tire 34. Blanket 35. Sky  
Prompts given by **Jenstogner**: 36. Persian Rug, 37. Voicemail 38. Scrapbook 39. Card Table 40. Cream Colored Paint

The reader who came the closest to naming the correct drabble author was _SylvieT. Mon Congrats!_

* * *

"The **dog** did it!" Grissom exclaimed while under interrogation by his wife.

"You can't blame that smell on Hank, what kind of experiment do you have running?"

Gil made no attempt to answer and avoided Sara's eyes.

"So, what are hiding?"

Still Gil remained silent.

"I'm going to find out."

"No experiment, okay? I've become a carnivore again, since you've been in Vegas."

"So that smell is...?"

"Burnt _Hachis Parmentier_."

"French Shepherd's Pie? Was it good?"

"Sara, I burnt it. I didn't eat it."

"What did you eat instead?"

"Salad."

Sara wrinkled her eyes and smirked, "Serves you right."

* * *

Greg reveled in the attention he received from Sara and Catherine as they critiqued his Halloween costume.

Sara examined the different boxes with bloody knives sticking out of them glued to Greg's lab coat. "Lucky Charms... Honey Bunches of Oats... Cheerios... Kix...."

"A **Cereal** Killer," Catherine said. "Clever, Greg."

Grissom entered the breakroom for a cup of coffee.

"Bossman," Greg said. "When you dress up the ladies notice."

"I dressed up."

"How?" Sara asked.

He pointed to a sticker on his polo shirt. Sara read it aloud. "'Don't look at me.' Gris, I don't get it."

"I'm the invisible man."

* * *

Jack Dawson smiled at the two men in front of him. Under suspicion of a brutal crime, Dawson showed no remorse. His arrogant demeanor taunted the cop and CSI.

"Anymore questions?" Dawson said, barely containing his chuckle.

Detective Vega wanted nothing more than to strangle the son-of-a-bitch, but Grissom knew he could get more out of the suspect.

"Why did you take Mr. Sanje's body from the back of the store all the way to your car, dismember him there and then leave his wife's body behind."

"What can I say," Dawson said in a sardonic tone. "I **tire** easily."

* * *

The man smiled at the vision under the old **blanket** that had been handmade by his grandmother before she'd married. It warmed his heart, his soul to know he and Sara shared in making what was under the blanket.

She was the very image of her mother in miniature: 'Alaia' meant sublime, with dark brunette hair,a long limbed beauty; but she did happen to carry a slight cleft in her chin that was completely inherited from him. He'd loved her at first sight; as he had her mother. Alaia was his first child, but not his last.

* * *

Chelsea Landon sexed up three different high rollers. When she went missing, there were three natural suspects, all of whom were mum during questioning.

Warrick and Sara scoped Chelsea's two other love nests, and now worked the third.

Warrick found several books on the nightstand. "Sar?" He yelled. "You remember seeing any self-help books at the other places?"

"Nope," she answered from the living room. Sara found paint stencils and paint swatches with shades of blue from **sky **to cobalt. "Hey, you find one for expectant mothers?"

Warrick approached with a book. "Who's your daddy?"

"Yeah. That's what she said."

* * *

It was Greg's fourth scene after making CSI 1, and the last thing he wanted to do was ask for a favor.

"Hey Sar. You mind finish processing the living room?"

Sara shot him a look. "What's left?"

Greg gulped. "Just the floor."

Sara left the bathroom to see all the work Greg did. All that was left to process was a large **Persian rug** on the floor. She saw Greg getting pale. "You OK?"

"Did I ever tell you the time I caught Papa and Nana Olaf having sex," Greg shuddered at the memory. "I really hate those rugs.

* * *

He asked her to check his **voicemail** while he showered. Although no new messages, Sara hit "1" out of habit, which started three saved messages.

The first: a flirtatious message Sara left four days ago. The second: a three-month-old message where Sara asked if he was OK after a migraine.

Then the third. "Hi... it's... it's Sara. ... I... I didn't mean to dump my past on you, but ... it felt good, and you were ... a good friend. So... yeah... thanks."

He kept that message for more than a year.

Grissom reemerged. "Any messages?"

"Yes. I love you."

* * *

Grissom entered the morgue as Doctor Al Robbins snapped a photo of the victim on his slab.

"A new entry for the **scrapbook**?"

"Keith Stuart. He played the ever-loving Hooper Crawford on the soap opera, 'Our Bold Hearts,''' Robbins said of the deceased.

"Al, why do you know that?"

"What do you mean, 'Why?'" Robbins said. "It's the most-watched soap for 30 years. My wife loves it."

"Oh," Grissom chucked. "Your wife does..."

"Yes, I have watched it on occasion," Robbins admitted. "Beats the hell out of looking at beetles."

"You haven't seen the right beetles."

* * *

Grissom quickly assembled the **card table** in his living room.

He had vacillated for a long time on the viability of allowing his poker buddies access to his townhouse, but in the end, former sheriff Montgomery had the last word.

"Gil, you ain't married, son. We don't care if your house is messy. See you next Tuesday."

Of the four men coming to his house tonight, three had criminal pasts. It made for an interesting night of anecdotes and cards.

The doorbell rang, Grissom opened the door expecting his guests or the caterer, but instead found a forlorn Sara Sidle.

* * *

Some things always looked familiar. The look of passion in his eyes. The way his mouth curved to the left as he entered her fully.

And other things, while familiar, go unnoticed.

As Sara reveled in Grissom's touches and his breath upon her neck, her eyes followed the path of the sunbeams peeking through the curtains.

Right up to the bedroom walls.

Sara's uncontrollable laughter caused Grissom to stop.

"Honey? What?"

"**Cream-colored paint**," she said between snorts. "Just like the old joke... beige... I think I'll paint the walls beige."

Grissom's confusion only made Sara laugh more.

* * *

TBC

A/N: We would just love to know if you enjoyed the drabbles. So press the button if you like. And, as always, thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

Who Drabbled What?  
Chapter Five  
By MSCSIFANGSR and JellyBeanChiChi

Drabbles from last chapter: JellybeanChiChi: 32, 33, 35, 36, 37, 38, 40; MSCSIFANGSR: 31, 34, 39

Prompts given by **ProWriter11**: 41. Tornados 42. Broccoli 43. Windex 44. Dildo 45. Dog Turd (Double Drabble - 200 words)  
Prompts given by **Grissom1**: 46. Long Distance Marriage 47. Thermite 48. Phone Sex 49. Worthy of the Effort 50. Baseball in Bed

Congrats to SylvieT who guessed the author of some of last chapter's drabbles.

* * *

Sara breezed into the bedroom wearing nothing. She didn't acknowledge him, as he lay in the crumpled sheets, watching as she raided their closet for something to wear.

Her movements were spastic as she pulled out hangers, discarding each over her shoulder onto the floor.

Gil found himself becoming aroused with the occasional flash of one of her breasts as she twisted this way and that.

His voice belayed none of his desire, "**Tornados** are known to devastate neighborhoods in seconds."

"Are you trying to tell me that I'm messy?" She turned completely to face him.

"No, dear, you're beautiful."

* * *

"Grissom?"

"Yes?"

"You have...**broccoli**...between your...teeth."

He brought his napkin to his mouth, then tried to wiggle the jammed vegetable free with his tongue.

Sara couldn't help but chuckle when he asked moments later, "Better?" He smiled: the offending produce was still there.

"This is what you're going to remember about our first date?"

"I could forget it, if..." she trailed off.

"If.."

"If you take me back to your place and make mad passionate love to me."

"That'd make you forget about my embarrassment?"

"Most definitely."

"Shall we leave now?"

"Yes."

He signaled for the waiter, "Check, please."

* * *

"Oh my God, Catherine, what are you doing?"

"Nothing." She quickly hid the bottle of window cleaner behind her back as Grissom entered the layout room.

He watched in horror as the eight legged yellow garden spider, curled into itself and died before his eyes. Then he lowered his glasses and stared at the strawberry blonde.

She felt unease under his gaze and began to ramble: "I was cleaning the light table, for the evidence in the Morrison case, he just...I promise I didn't mean to kill your friend."

"**Windex** is a cruel way to die, Catherine."

"I'm sorry, Gil."

* * *

"What did you do before we became intimate?"

"I have a **dildo**."

"Really? Can I see it?"

"That's personal don't you think? I've never shown it to anyone before. Other than the sales girl...and the creepy guy who..."

"Sara, quit over-talking. Let me see it."

She reached into the drawer to the left of her bed and pulled it out, handed it hesitantly to her lover.

He looked over the seven inch pink phallus, imagining her using it; he swelled at the thought.

He compared it to his own erection, "I'm bigger."

She smiled, "Yeah, I like you better, too."

* * *

"Did you find anything along the perimeter of the property?" Catherine's voice held a bit of doubt.

"Other than a **dog turd**?"

Willow's scathing look didn't appear to phase Sara as she shook her head.

"Can to share with the rest of us?" Catherine gestured to the others seated around the conference table.

"Sure." Sara looked down at her notes, "I found a .22 caliber handgun buried beneath some rocks; Bobby is running it to see if murder weapon. Fingerprints on handle match Victim #2."

"Why didn't you inform me of this?"

"It's in the report."

"You should have told me in person."

"Look," Sara glanced around her as their other team members quietly looked away, mentally preparing themselves for another epic battle, "Reprimand me in private, but not while we're here."

"I'm not reprimanding you, I'm asking why didn't you tell me? I'm the lead investigator. You report to me."

"I filed out the report."

"You didn't think it warranted discussion with your supervisor?"

"Catherine, please..."

Warrick cleared his throat, "Cath, you and Keppler were wrapped up. Sara tried to talk to you, but..."

Catherine reddened slightly before changing the subject, "Greg, what was the substance on Victim 4?"

* * *

I was dragging my carry-on to my gate when I saw her.

"Hey there, 408," I said.

"OH MY GOD!" Sara stood and we hugged. "It's been a while. Got time to sit?"

I did, so we chatted.

"You still with Gil?" I asked.

"I can't believe you remember his name," Sara laughed.

_If she only knew._ I shrugged, then looked at her wedding photo. "Is this the jungle?"

"Costa Rica."

_Unbelievable!_ "Where is Gil now?"

"Paris. Temporary **long-distance marriage.** But it works."

We talked till they called her flight.

I smiled. Their love had triumphed. Bravo, Monkey Sex Man.

* * *

Sara lay underneath Grissom, their bodies pressed together tightly. Both were out of breath and sweating.

Grissom looked rather pensive after making love to his girlfriend.

"What was that about **thermite**?"

"The part where you explained it or the part where I said 'some people just shouldn't be together'?"

"Yeah, the last one."

"Not us, silly. I think we're more like an endothermic reaction rather than an exothermic reaction."

"I knew there was a reason I loved you."

"You love me for my brain, not my body?"

He leaned down to kiss her softly on the lips before answering, "Yes."

* * *

Sara photographed the dead body of middle-aged man lying on a bed. After snapping photos of his lower body, she asked, "David, could you possibly... cover him up..."

"Oh, of course, Sara." David covered the crotch area. "Felt like it was staring you down?"

"Something like that."

He might have been dead, but the corpse had a smile on his face.

"Listened to his phone messages," Greg said. "Sounds like someone was ready for some **phone sex**."

"Sexy messages?" Sara asked.

"Oh yeah."

"So the guy suffered a coronary after listening to a sexy message?"

"Could be."

David scoffed. "Amateur."

* * *

The comment came out of nowhere, although Sara had expected Catherine to ask.

"Why did you leave him?"

"Which time?"

"Hell, whichever."

"You asked but you don't want to be specific?"

"I'm amazed you didn't answer with a 'Fuck you.'"

"Well, then..."

"Oh no. No going back."

They laughed. When Sara looked at Catherine, she saw some pretenses had melted away. They were talking about Grissom -- Sara's husband, but Catherine's friend.

So Sara shared.

"And this whole thing... with Grissom," Catherine asked. "... the courtship... hardships... marriage... has everything been... **worthy of the effort**?"

Sara smiled. "What do you think?"

* * *

"Two down, nobody on, bottom of the ninth," came the announcer's excited voice. "Line shot up the middle, he's rounding first and headed for second, he's out, no wait, safe at second base."

Grissom's fingers tweaked Sara's nipple.

"He's trying for third, here's the throw, it's in the dirt, safe at third base."

Those same fingers were now drenched in wetness between Sara's legs.

Sara looked into Grissom's eyes, "Do you think we can turn off the t.v.? Play a little **baseball in bed**? I guarantee you a 'grand slam'."

"I knew you'd love baseball."

* * *

**Some words in last drabble were paraphrased from "Paradise by the Dashboard Light" as sung by Meatloaf, written by Jim Steinman. 1977.

**Some words in the "Long Distance Marriage" drabble were borrowed from a previous story written by one half of TakingAChanceOnJelly.

* * *

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

Who Drabbled What?  
Chapter Six  
By MSCSIFANGSR and JellyBeanChiChi

Drabbles from last chapter: JellybeanChiChi: 46, 48, 49; and MSCSIFANGSR: 41, 42, 43, 44, 45, 47, 50

Prompts given by **Toothchick**: 51. Twinkies 52. Elmo 53. Chopsticks 54. Catnip 55. Tap Shoes  
Prompts given by **CSIKathy**: 56. Scratches 57. Pink Floyd 58. Jello 59. Mosquito 60. Spandex (Double Drabble)

So, sillym edged SylvieT in naming six of 10 drabbles with its authors. But, kudos to KadianScripter, who separated the drabbles appropriately based on writing styles. Kadian just didn't know who did the trio of drabbles and who did the other seven.

* * *

Catherine put the box down in disgust.

"Banana-flavored? Sara what were you thinking?"

"They come in flavors? Didn't know. What's the difference?"

"What kind of Redneck Bridal Shower has banana-flavored **Twinkies**?"

Sara offered a blank stare and paused. "Did you hear what you just said?"

Catherine sighed in disgust. She worked frantically to set up a fun and original bridal shower for SuperDave's Bride-to-Be. But apparently sending a college-educated brainiac to buy snack food was a mistake.

Sara relented. "Cath, I'll go back and get plain. Don't freak out."

Judy came in and presented her grocery bag. "Heineken?! Jesus, Judy!"

* * *

"CODIS matched the print recovered at the scene to a **Elmo** Delacorte. He spent time in prison for burglary back in the 80's."

"Thank you, Mandy." Sara started to leave the room, but Mandy Webster's next words stopped her.

"According to the files, Mr. Delacorte was killed on October 13, 2003 by his wife in a domestic disturbance turned murder. Mrs. Delacorte stabbed him 42 times after she caught him molesting their 12 year old daughter."

Mandy watched Sara's face pale. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Sara retorted quickly. "So, what's a dead guy's prints doing at my crime scene?"

* * *

As a finishing touch, she placed ivory **chop-sticks** into the tight bun of hair at her nape. Sara wore a deep crimson geisha dress and wooden clogs as she studied her reflected appearance.

If she hadn't known she was underneath the sexy veneer of the costume and make-up, she would have never recognized herself.

She smiled, mentally preparing herself for the elaborate fantasy Grissom had outlined to her several weeks ago.

_Sara Sidle: CSI by night; Geisha by day_. She laughed a moment to herself and then slowly made her way into the living room where Grissom anxiously waited.

* * *

"The way they attract men at that age, it's like **catnip**."

Catherine awoke suddenly, drenched in sweat, gasping for air.

In her dream, she and Keppler were investigating the murder of her own daughter, instead of another 'Sweet' Jane Doe. Lindsey's lifeless eyes staring into nothing, then the eyes morphed into Mike's eyes as he looked up at her as he lay dying in her arms.

Catherine left the room, leaving her bed empty, to check on her child. Finding Lindsey sleeping to Paramore's latest CD, Catherine switched off the music, then ran her hand through her baby's hair.

* * *

"You think he was a dancer?" Greg quipped.

"Well, shoes do make the man," Grissom added.

"Liver temp, 90 degrees: TOD probably eight hours ago," Dave said. "Tap dancing has it origins to American slaves who used rhythmic sounds on the wooden decks of southern river boats to communicate wordlessly."

"And," Dave continued, "the trick to finding good **tap shoes** is to make sure they have sturdy heels, where there is the most wear and tear."

"Dave. Stop," Greg said. "You're brown-nosing so bad."

Silence. Until... "A good lining really is necessary for comfort."

"Good point, Dr. Grissom," Dave beamed.

* * *

The deep **scratches** on his back became painful as the sweat accumulated under his shirt as he crouched in the desert over a body covered in hide beetles. Gil couldn't concentrate on the bugs that he'd studied all his life, he was re-playing the scene in his bedroom from earlier that morning when Sara had clawed into him as she cried out in ecstasy.

David Phillips saw the pained expression on Grissom's face, but since it was Grissom, David decided that the better part of valor would be to ignore the situation unless Grissom chose to say something himself.

* * *

Candles glowing from the center section of the dinner table. **Pink Floyd** played on the stereo; the couple swayed in time with the music. The man leaned down and murmured something in the woman's ear. She laughed while he dipped her, quickly stealing a kiss.

When she was pulled back into the upright position, she whispered into the man's ear. Without a word, he pulled from her embrace, blew out the candles and lead her to the bedroom.

He pulled off her dress slowly; asking with his eyes only: "Sara, do you really want this?"

She blinked once in response.

* * *

"Hey, Grissom, you ever watched two women wrestling in **Jell-O**?"

Grissom lowered his glasses, then looked straight into the DNA tech's eyes.

"Have you ever watched …" Greg's voice trailed off when he noticed the newest CSI approach the office, then smile at them, then turn and walk toward Ballistics.

"Sara," Greg said breathlessly.

Visions of the slim brunette in bikinis wrestling filled both men's minds. Grissom's fantasy entailed Sara losing the bikini, but neither men voiced what his was thinking.

Greg shook his head in wonder, then said, "Sticky substance on your vic was Jell-O."

"Thank you, Greg."

* * *

Sara kept swatting at her neck while processing evidence from their latest case in the layout room. Grissom looked up every time he heard the slapping noise; he noticed Sara's hair was pulled up into a tight ponytail, making her look younger than her thirty-four years. She was slightly sweaty. Just like…

__

Stop!

He shouldn't be thinking about that right now, the evidence was more important; they were at work for goodness sake.

The loud smack of skin on skin had Grissom's eyes boring into her.

"What?" She saw the look in his eye. "It was a **mosquito**."

* * *

It was a sight Sara thought she'd never see in her lifetime, but she'd never imagined seeing her husband in **spandex** and a matching tunic.

His poor bowed legs stuck out like sore thumbs in the green elastic polyurethane, but he'd committed to wearing the Robin Hood costume and there was no way he could get out of his promise, not one that he'd made to their four-year-old daughter.

He held onto the matching hat as Sara helped Alaia with her own Halloween outfit of "Maid Marion." Her ringlet curls highlighted her cherub like face while she wore an off-white veil and matching long dress.

Their daughter had decreed Sara safe from having to don a costume because her mother was seven months pregnant with her little brother, whom she had begun calling "Little John" in her imagination.

Sara kissed Gil quickly, whispering, "I'll help you out of those later, dear." She then handed him a quiver of arrows and their treat bags.

He took the little girl's hand, placed the green hat on his head, then winked salaciously at his wife as father and child left the house for a night of trick or treating.

* * *

TBC

We love reviews. Please don't think you have to guess who wrote what when you leave a review. It's just a game we thought some people might want to play :-) Hope you enjoyed reading.


	7. Chapter 7

Who Drabbled What?  
Chapter Seven  
By MSCSIFANGSR and JellyBeanChiChi

Drabbles from last chapter: 51, 55 by JellyBeanChiChi and 52, 53, 54, 56, 57, 58, 59, 60 by MSCSIFANGSR

Prompts given by **CSIBecky**: 61. Cricket 62. Shed 63. Broccoli 64. Shaggy 65. Kilimanjaro  
Prompts given by **Sidle77**: 66. Candle 67. Sticky 68. Champagne 69. Tight 70. Glue

We had quite a little three-way competition in guessing who drabbled what. But the victory goes to SylvieT, who just edged Kadian for the most correct guesses. Congrats! (Silly... don't worry, maybe you'll get your sock this week :-)  
We hope everyone enjoys this batch!

* * *

Learning to sleep while a boat swelled upon the ocean took time, but Sara mastered it. Now she needed to acclimate herself to another environment.

The nocturnal sounds of the rainforest seemed like a single, high-pitched noise. But when Sara concentrated her brain broke down singular sounds. A frog. A caimen. A bird. A **cricket**. A mosquito, and dozens of other bugs.

"Damn," said her roommate as she searched for ear plugs. "I can't imagine anyone sleeping soundly with all these creepy crawlies."

Saddeness struck Sara. She knew someone who could. But she doubted she'd find out for sure.

* * *

Riley, Nick and Grissom assumed their various responsibilities at the darkened crime scene. As Riley surveyed the deceased and tried to identify a substance on the victim's suit.

"Here you go," Grissom said as he handed Riley an item. "Perhaps this will **shed **light on the situation."

Riley rolled her eyes. "Why do you do that? Do you think you're witty?"

"I'm just trying to help, Ms. Adams."

They worked silently, until Riley headed to the SUV.

"Hey Griss," Nick said. "Riley's just a little..."

"I know. Nick. She's a bitch. I give her 22 episodes... I mean 9 months."

* * *

The sight in the refrigerator depressed Grissom. He thought he got rid of everything.

But he knew there would always be something to remind him of her.

Even in his grief, those words should have never escaped his mouth. Now he was left in a thick fog: Moving, thinking, weeping slowly.

Yet he quickly spots the dog-eared, paperback romance forgotten among his books; easily picks which of his shirts she wore to bed.

And the **broccoli **left in the crisper.

As he threw the spoiled vegetable away, he knew the biggest reminder of her was the hole in his heart.

* * *

Sara ran her fingers through the silver curls at the base of Grissom's neck as she kissed him thoroughly. When they pulled apart, she murmured against his throat, "You're getting a little **shaggy**."

He looked down at her uncomprehendingly.

"I've heard 'shag' or 'to shag' but what exactly is 'shaggy'?

The sound of her laughter made him smile even though he knew it was directed at him.

"Your hair is getting long, Grissom. But I would like 'to shag' you right now."

"Your wish is my command, dear," as he whisked her off to the bed.

* * *

"And now he would never write the things he'd saved to write until he knew enough to write them well." Grissom quoted as he snapped digital photos of the famous writer who's dead body had found by the housekeeping staff of the upscale hotel.

"Do you suspect suicide?" David asked just after taking the man's liver temperature.

"No, not yet. Why?"

"You quoted Hemingway, from 'The Snows of **Kilimanjaro**'. I just wondered." David looked at Grissom, then continued, "Man's been dead for 6 hours."

"Thank you," Grissom smiled, then resumed with the photographic evidence.

* * *

Sara was sifting through evidence from her latest crime scene when Grissom walked into the layout room. He was wearing that light blue lab coat; his eyes accentuated nicely with it and Sara smiled in spite of herself. She couldn't deny how handsome he was when he paraded around in full geek mode.

"You busy?"

"Kinda looks like it, doesn't it?"

He shrugged like he hadn't noticed her before. "I can't determine how a **candle** was used as a implement of death."

"You want me to be your 'victim' in a recreation?"

"Yes."

"Okay."

* * *

As Grissom washed off his hands in the washroom of the New Orleans style coffee shop after the accident, he couldn't help but smile.

Sara had spilled her cafe au lait on him when she cheered unexpectedly when the Cubs scored in the bottom of the ninth in a come from behind victory.

His hands bore the brunt of the attack, **sticky** sugar clinging to the web spaces of his fingers and he recalled Sara erotically sucking the sweet concoction from his digits. He felt himself become aroused, so he left diplomatically for the restroom.

Marriage was a good thing.

* * *

The woman's dead body had been found surrounded by empty **champagne** bottles; opened gallon paint cans and scattered paint brushes.

Sara used a Nikon F-4 to document evidence as Grissom contemplated the scene, scratching his beard thoughtfully.

"'Ballatore spumante' is not expensive; but wonder what she was celebrating?" Grissom wondered outloud.

"That she enjoyed painting the walls of her house? _Our time on this earth is sacred, and we should celebrate every moment_."

"Very nice, Sara," Grissom smiled. Then was silent for several minutes before he continued, "You know, maybe we should celebrate more together."

"I'd like that, Griss."

* * *

He watched as they brought Natalie in for questioning. She looked serene, almost happy.

She had no right to embody a positive emotion because she stole the most precious person in his life. She had no right.

He charged into the interrogation room. He demanded to know where Sara was. But all Natalie did was smile. She had no right, and he wrapped his hands **tight **around that worthless bitch's throat.

Grissom awoke with a start. He quickly looked down to his left to see Sara sleeping. He closed his eyes, but a tear still slipped down his exhausted face.

* * *

Brass met the woman at a bar.

There was no mystery to his small talk or why he bought her three scotches, nor any mystery to their verbal repartee.

They knew the game.

His calloused hands seemed soft, but she felt the distance of his touch.

She smiled, moaned. But didn't attempt to hide the uninspired look in her eyes.

When it was over, they kissed one final time as she said goodbye.

Brass smiled, weakly.

After the blonde left and he was alone again, he cried: the pain of shooting Officer Bell still stuck to him like **glue**.

* * *

TBC

We love reviews.


	8. Chapter 8

Who Drabbled What?  
Chapter Eight  
By MSCSIFANGSR and JellyBeanChiChi

Drabbles from last chapter: JellybeanChiChi: 61, 62, 63, 69 and 70. MSCSIFANGSR: 64, 65, 66, 67 and 68  
Kudos to all our guessers, but KadianScripter got 9 out of 10 correct. Way to go!

Prompts given by **Mingsmommy**: 71. Ducks 72. Pillows 73. Gardenias 74. Cactus 75. Feather Duster (Double Drabble)  
Prompts given by **Cincoflex**: 76. Toilet Seat, 77. Mao Tse Tung, 78. Diabolical 79. Mauve 80. Chloroform

* * *

Several **ducks** greeted Sara and Grissom as they left a crime scene within the Flamingo Resort.

"They market this place as an oasis in the desert," Sara said, as they strolled through the resort's wildlife habitat. "If I wanted to be among nature and wildlife, it wouldn't be a stone's throw from the Strip."

Although they walked as coworkers and talked as two people rekindling a friendship, Grissom wished for more.

"You'd love the rainforest."

"You think? I'm not into bugs like you."

"I appreciate more than just bugs."

"And what's that?" she asked.

_Someday, I'll show you, _he thought.

* * *

Sara's attention was fixed on the floral **pillows** on the couch opposite her in the waiting room of the attorney's office. They matched the ones on her newly purchased couch. She smiled in memory of the shopping expedition and of the christening party she and her lover had when the sofa had been delivered.

She flushed as she reached for his hand and as their fingers clasped together, "I love you."

His blue eyes caught hers in question, "What prompted that?"

"I was looking at those..."

He followed her gaze, until he blushed, understanding the illusion.

"I love you, too."

* * *

"Do you remember if there were **gardenias** anywhere at the crime scene?"

"There was a vase full of them on the dresser in the master bedroom."

"You remind me of Grissom, a lot."

"Does that mean you want marry me, too?"

Sara laughed. "No, Ray. Although the two of you share some of the same thought processes and mannerisms. He chose well asking you to work here at the crime lab."

"Didn't he ask you here, too?" At her nod, he continued, "Well, Sara, I'd say we were the only two people personally chosen by the 'Great Gil Grissom'."

* * *

She approached the table in the corner of the dance hall. "Hi. You going to dance?"

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"Oh?" Sara said as she sat next to Grissom.

"Two reasons. One, Catherine introduced me to **Cactus **Punch."

"You mean the stuff that prickles when it goes down?"

"Well, the diabetic shock from the sugary flavoring tapers that effect. But after three, standing becomes an issue."

"I see" Sara smirked as they sat in a cocoon as Annual Ball festivities resumed. "And reason 2?"

Grissom leaned in. "That dress you're wearing is giving me a raging hard-on."

* * *

"Your puppy has got to go!"

"What's he done this time? Chewed your lingerie again?"

Sara looked incredulously at Grissom who stood in the doorway holding the 4-month-old, 35-pound dog. The dog was licking Gil's face, squirming around in his arms.

"No, he's a pervert."

"Sara, you've got to keep your used lingerie in the closed dirty clothes hamper in the bathroom, so Hank can't get to them." Hank slid out of Grissom's grasp and skittered onto the floor, then ran directly to Sara's crotch. The dog inhaled soundly; Gil snickered at the look on Sara's face.

"He does know a good thing when he smells it." Grissom's smirk was lost on Sara as she shooed the boxer away from her.

"Gil, Hank was humping the **feather duster** earlier, not eating my underwear."

"Gross, then how is my beautiful girlfriend going to clean the dust from around my apartment?"

"Oh, stop with the compliments and derogatory statements in the same breath. What are you going to do about that damned dog?"

"Get a more forgiving girlfriend?" Seeing Sara wasn't amused, he continued, "Well, I guess we'll take him to the obedience training course at the pet store."

* * *

It'd happened again; for the tenth or eleventh time, but really she'd stopped counting.

Seriously, Sara was sick of having to go to the bathroom, then finding herself sitting in cold toilet water.

It was all Gil Grissom's fault. The man wouldn't let the **toilet seat** back down after he used her commode.

_Maybe I'll stop letting him come over_. She thought, but the idea was immediately quelled when she heard his voice shout out from the bedroom.

"Honey, don't sit down on the john, I forgot again. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," she semi-shouted back. "Thanks for telling me."

* * *

Sara hated forced party-going. Especially when it involved looking at baby photos of the Undersheriff's son and daughter-in-law with all three people demanding answers.

"Sara? So who does the baby looks like?"

_Don't say it,_ she thought. _Do not say the baby looks like **Mae Tse Tung**_.

But the two-week old, who was painfully squinting from bright lights when the photo was taken, looked like...

"Oh, is this the baby Sara says looks just like you, Undersheriff?"

Grissom. He rescued her. Sara smiled.

"Sara, Nick wanted his car keys."

Sara rewarded Grissom with another smile and left.

* * *

"What are you reading?" Sara literally bounced into the DNA lab, shocked to find Greg with his legs propped on the counter.

"A comic book."

"Grissom's gonna kill you if he finds you reading that when you're supposed to be running the samples from the Elliot case."

"The tests will complete in 4 minutes, 16 seconds." Greg shrugged his shoulders as he resumed reading the comic book.

"So what's it about?"

"Case where an old cat lady was found dead of a stab wound."

"No, I meant the comic book." Sara blushed slightly.

"Superhero foils **diabolical** plot by evil mastermind."

* * *

He agonized over the pants, shirt, shoes. Even the socks.

Now, the final decision. The tie.

She recalled his mother saying that a gentleman should consider matching a garment he wore with that of the lady he courted. But he didn't know what Sara would wear on their first date.

He picked up a tie. _What is this? **Mauve**? _

He searched the crayon box of his mind for 10 minutes. Went online for the definition of mauve.

He was stalling. _Screw this._ He had a date. With Sara.

With no further thought, he put on his blue tie and left.

* * *

"**Chloroform** isn't easily obtained by the public in general."

"So, where did it come from?"

"You're a detective, detect..."

Brass stared at his friend for a few moments before he realized Grissom was serious. "Where would I start?"

"Jim, I have to leave the lab now. It's important. No overtime today."

"Can I have a clue at least?" Jim shouted as Grissom turned off the light in his office, leaving the detective in the dark.

"Yeah, I'm going on a date and if I leave now, I'll be on time."

Jim muttered under his breath, "Go get the girl, tiger."

* * *

TBC  
A/N: I would like to say this batch contains one of my favorite drabbles written by my talented partner. :-) We would love to hear what drabbles you enjoy. Take care and thanks for reading — JBCC


	9. Chapter 9

Who Drabbled What?  
Chapter Nine  
By MSCSIFANGSR and JellyBeanChiChi

Drabbles from last chapter: 71, 74, 77, 79 by JellyBeanChiChi and 72, 73, 75, 76, 78, 80 by MSCSIFANGSR  
Who da guesser? Sylvie da guesser! Way to go!

Prompts given by **Belisma80**: 81. Pickle 82. Mascara 83. Scissors 84. Ipod 85. Water  
Prompts given by **Starrynight8225**: 86. Picnic, 87. Basket 88. Envelope 89. Teddy Bear 90. Water Bottle (DD)

* * *

A husband surprised his wife and found her suspiciously nude in bed. She immediately cried, "Rape."

Not one to dispute an alleged victim, Catherine took an objective look at evidence and with her usual meticulous precision took samples of stains upon the bed sheets.

Along with semen and vaginal contributions was something interesting.

"Salad dressing. The 'victim' fessed up and said she and her boy toy used it as a lubricant."

Grissom shook his head. "What type of dressing was it?"

"Creamy cucumber."

"So they used it because they were in a **pickle**?"

Catherine groaned. She walked right into that.

* * *

Grissom watched from the driver's side of the vehicle as Catherine hastily applied eye make-up using the passenger side mirror.

"Did you know the ancient Egyptians used **mascara** to ward off evil spirits and bad energy?"

Catherine cut her baby blues toward him in annoyance. "Are you gonna tell me that men used it, too; cause if you want to borrow this, you can."

"Yes; no."

Catherine looked again at the man driving. He was attractive for a man nearing fifty, she couldn't figure out why no woman had snagged him.

Well, one had, he just hadn't realized it yet.

* * *

Rock, paper, **scissors**, shoot!" they said.

"DAMMIT!" Greg shouted.

Warrick hoisted Greg into the dumpster just as Grissom walked up to the duo. "How did you get Greg in there so willingly and so fast?"

"RPS."

"Ah," Grissom nodded.

"I keep telling him, it's not a game for the weak-minded. I own Greggo in that game."

Greg popped up from the garbage. "You made a lucky guess."

Warrick smiled.

"Don't worry Greg," Grissom said. "When you're out of that steaming, smelly filth, just remember whose car you'll sit in when you return to the lab. And it won't be mine."

* * *

As they entered the room investigating the death of Amelia Rueben, Sara noticed something odd about Warrick. "Hey, what's that in your ear?"

"**Ipod**. I got it about a month ago. Archie helped me with it. I didn't know I needed an Apple computer for it to be compatible."

"Yeah, I heard they were going to upgrade so PC users could utilize music through a USB cable."

"You're such a nerd, Sara."

"Any Miles Rueben?"

"Oh, yeah. So, which side do you want?" He gestured to the opulent suite.

Laughing, "I'll take the west wing."

"It's a nice place."

"Uh-huh."

* * *

She witnessed four coworkers shot to death and now sat in an office as investigators worked the crime scene.

She watched one man intently, and saw how his eyes followed the hands of the brunette as she wrote notes.

When others spoke to him his face stood stoic. But when his attention went to her, there was a hint of softness.

He entered her office. "Miss? I'm Gil Grissom. Has someone spoken to you?"

She looked blank. "Yes. Your girlfriend."

"Excuse me?"

"She went to get me a drink."

Sara then entered the office with a glass of **water**.

* * *

He hated her work boots, especially when he tripped over them.

She hated the sarcastic remark he said after he tripped over her boots.

"You know, Grissom, living with you is no **picnic** either."

"I think it is."

"Oh really? Explain."

"A couple spends time outdoors. There is sunscreen and bugs involved. Food that should be hot is served cold." He wrapped his arms around her. "We just processed in the desert. We applied sunscreen and, according to Nick, 'Where there's Grissom, there's bugs.'"

She smiled.

"So it is a picnic. You want the last slice of cold pizza, dear?"

* * *

Greg and Nick did all of the teasing as they sat at the diner and ate breakfast with Sara and Catherine.

"So where did he put the ring? In a cocoon?"

"That's the dumbest thing I've heard," Nick said.

"No, it's totally Grissom. So, Sara, did he bring protection for the honeymoon?"

"You mean a mosquito net, right?" Nick chuckled.

When they left, Sara and Catherine enjoyed a cup of coffee.

"No comments, Cath?" Sara asked.

Catherine put her cup down and looked at Sara softly. "He was a **basket **case when you left. Both times. You're good for him."

* * *

"So, why didn't you put a stamp on this?"

Sara's voice, while inquisitive, had an allure of sexiness that broke Grissom's concentration. He looked up and stared at the **envelope **in her hand.

"Would you believe that I knew you'd be watching a Godzilla movie and as soon as you finished your yogurt, you'd start thumbing through my Shakespeare volume?"

"No," Sara said, a smile upon her face.

He took off his glasses and approached her. "I should have."

"It would have cost you 41 cents."

"I'm sorry," he said. "You deserve more."

"More than a stamp?"

"More than me."

* * *

"How many times in your life have you bought a little girl a **teddy bear**?"

"Once."

"And that makes you the expert?" Sara pulled off her sunglasses and looked at the man driving, who shrugged in response. "Who was the little girl?"

"Who do you think?"

"Lindsey." They were silent for a while, before Sara continued, "We're going to buy the biggest, cuddliest, cutest teddy bear at the toy store."

"Sara, I know this, you've told me several times."

"I'm not going overboard, am I?"

"Your newly rediscovered brother's daughter is well worth any expense."

"Thank you, Gil."

"Anytime, sweetheart."

* * *

A slick, wet condensation accumlulated on the outside of the blue transparent **water bottle** in the past several minutes since either of the occupants on the couch noticed.

They were otherwise engaged with the tasting of the other.

Lips and tongues battled for dominance as the man had finally achieved the upper hand, for the moment, because soon after the woman, panting for breath, had the man flipped over onto his back under her captive embrace.

"Uncle!" he conceded.

"Grissom, really? I thought we were wrestling, then you start kissing me, then I pin you and you give up?"

He grabbed the water with his right hand and squirted a stream into his mouth. "I haven't given up."

"Oh really?" Sara relieved him of the bottle. "I think you were trying to distract me."

"True."

They both stood, the water forgotten, and began grappling again. Grissom had Sara's arms trapped between his body and with a move unknown in professional wrestling, Sara slipped away from his embrace by sliding her tongue along his collarbone.

"So who's distracting who?"

Grissom allowed Sara to continue her ministrations, her tongue trailing down his chest.

"Want to take this to the bedroom?"

"Oh, yeah."

* * *

TBC

A/N: Fine. I'll admit it. Reviews are love. They're love I say! Press the button!  
Leave these nice people alone. They don't have to leave reviews.  
You're right. I'm sorry.

...

Please review!  
STOP IT!


	10. Chapter 10

Who Drabbled What?  
Chapter Ten  
By MSCSIFANGSR and JellyBeanChiChi

Drabbles from last chapter: 81, 83, 85, 86, 87, 88 by JellyBeanChiChi and 82, 84, 89, 90 by MSCSIFANGSR

Congratulations to KadianScripter -- 9 for 10! Whoopee! And special kudos to Sillym3, who took on the task of trying to guess the drabbles despite being the vicinity of a "semi-naked" GG! Her review was hilarious!

Prompts given by **JeBentZo**: 91. Magazine 92. Computer 93. Cheese 94. Rain 95. Boots  
Prompts given by **Smacky30**: 96. Suicide 97. Ballerina 98. Sushi 99. Thorn 100. Disco

* * *

The woman sat in the police station waiting room staring straight ahead without blinking.

Brass scrutinized her actions from a distance before he approached her.

"Ms. Rebecca Newell?"

"May I help you, detective?"

"I was wondering why you weren't reading a **magazine** while you were waiting for me."

"It would be difficult."

Brass tilted his head to the right and studied the woman before him.

After several seconds, she proceeded with her answer, "I'm blind."

"I take it you didn't see what happened at the crime scene?"

"No, but I did hear everything."

"I'll take your statement in my office."

* * *

Sara loaded information from the case into the virtual crime scene program. Two things immediately stood out: the trajectory of bullet was different than eyewitness account; and second, she could see someone behind her, reflected in the monitor.

"I can't tell who you are, but I see you," she said to the **computer** screen.

His breath tickled her ear, "May I visit you... at home, later?"

The voice sent shivers of excitement through her body. They had been lovers for three weeks.

Sara was quiet for a moment, enjoying his proximity. She nodded once before he quietly left the room.

* * *

"Just keep talking to him, Sara. It helps."

She heard what Hank said, but the scene was so surreal she couldn't focus. One minute Grissom's asking her what kind of **cheese **she wants in her omelet, and the next minute she finds him on the floor unconscious and bleeding.

She frantically called 9-1-1. EMT Hank Pettigrew, her former lover, had arrived and examined Grissom on the floor. Of all the EMTs...

"Sara?" Hank repeated.

"Gil, please, baby. Wake up."

His eyes fluttered open. He looked toward Sara. Then Hank. Then Sara again.

"Honey, I'm not cooking him breakfast," Grissom said.

* * *

The flashes of light allowed her to view his peaceful facial features but she still flinched as the storm progressed.

She gently stroked his cheek and let her hand stray into his gray curls.

The thunder softly rattled against the windows, but it was enough to wake him. He offered her a genuine, warm smile, and while she smiled back, she seemed distant.

"You OK?" he asked.

She didn't answer, instead just continued to stroke his face and hair.

He kissed her forehead and lovingly enveloped her within his arms. Since the desert, he didn't like the **rain **anymore either.

* * *

Grissom watched as CHI lead TB by 18 with three minutes, 38 seconds. CHI had possession.

"If I choose the winner, no more football," Sara said.

"You can't take Chicago."

"Fine. I'll take tuberculosis."

"Tampa Bay."

"Whatever."

Interception by TB. Touchdown.

TB downs kickoff at Chicago's 2. Quarterback sack. Safety.

TB kickoff gains 42 yards. Bomb to the endzone. Touchdown.

TB recovers onside kick. Eight seconds left. 62-yard field goal attempt.

"The kicker **boots** it. ... It's good! Tampa Bay wins!"

"Unbelievable," Grissom moaned.

Sara, who utilized a 10-minute broadcast delay and the Internet before betting, turned off the TV.

* * *

She had another nightmare and tried not to wake him, but she did. She rubbed his temples and told him to go back to sleep, then left for the study. After surfing the Internet for an hour, Sara stretched until she heard closing strands of the theme music for M*A*S*H.

He had fallen asleep on the coach watching it. She sighed as she considered the significance theme song's title: "**Suicide** is Painless." She could debate the title's veracity using examples from deaths she'd investigated.

Yet when she considered the man asleep on the couch, in her mind the debate ceased.

* * *

Grissom watched the performers on stage for a while, but his attention was captivated by the woman beside him.

She dressed simply, an elegant black dress that hugged the curves of her body like it was a second skin. He licked his lips and hoped that the evening would end with his skin against hers in an erotic embrace.

When the prima **ballerina **completed her last dramatic expressions as "Dulcinea," Grissom watched the tears quietly streaming down Sara's face. It was then, he realized he was in love with her.

It wasn't about sex or infatuation. It was real.

* * *

He'd invited her to a Japanese restaurant for their first date and she watched completely enthralled as he ate the uncooked meat wrapped in seaweed and rice.

"When did you discover that you liked **sushi**?"

"1979," he answered without further detail, took a sip of the warm sake, and asked, "You?"

"I've enjoyed it since I found out there was vegetarian sushi. Thank you for inviting me here."

"My pleasure. May I try one of yours?"

Sara playfully fed him with her chop sticks, He ate it with gusto and threw her a mock kiss when he was done.

* * *

"What's wrong, Sara?"

"Nothing."

"I known you for 15 years, and we've been married for four. I can tell when something is bothering you, so spill it."

"There's nothing's wrong."

"Sara, you better be telling the truth or I'm going to be a **thorn **in your side until you tell me."

"There. Is. Nothing. Wrong."

"Darling, sweetheart, love. Dear, tell me."

"THERE IS NOTHING WRONG, GILBERT GRISSOM!"

"Oh." Gil decided the better part of valor was to leave her alone as he slowly backed out of their bedroom.

"But there is something right," she smiled, "I am pregnant."

* * *

"Grissom?" Sara spoke louder than usual for her voice to carry over the music reverberating in the Denali.

"Yeah?" He looked over at her in the passenger seat and smiled at the woman with whom he'd been dating for two weeks.

"**Disco** is dead," she deadpanned. She turned the volume control down to acceptable decibels.

"Hey, you can't listen to that song without it being loud." Gil turned the sound up, blasting the SUV with funky sounds of Kool and the Gang. "You want to go to their concert at the Tropicana with me on Saturday night?"

"I'd love to."

* * *

TBC  
A/N: Reviews have been so wonderful. Love them all. Keep them coming and don't tell my writing partner that one of us is asking for reviews. She kind of gets upset if I...

WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!!!!

Gotta go!


	11. Chapter 11

Who Drabbled What?  
Chapter Eleven  
By MSCSIFANGSR and JellyBeanChiChi

Drabbles from last chapter: 93, 94, 95 by JellyBeanChiChi and 91, 92, 96, 97, 98, 99, 100 by MSCSIFANGSR  
We had a tight race going for the last chapter. Sillym3 took 7 out of 10, followed closely by KadianScripter with 8 out of 10 but SylvieT pulled ahead with 9 out of 10. CONGRATS!

Prompts given by **Ampad **: 101. Freedom fighter 102. Tony the tiger 103. Jorge 104. Bandit 105. Max (Double Drabble)  
Prompts given by **Twisted Puppy**: 106. Fairy tale 107. Sex 108. Clouds 109. Ice Cream 110. Friends

* * *

"The trick is not to make a sudden movement or noise."

Sara had to admit finding bugs in the room was no longer a horrifying event since she and Grissom connected. But she wasn't going to let him know that. There was nothing cuter than waking Grissom to dispose of a wayward spider.

Bare-chested, bed-headed, his pajama pants slightly askew to show a hint of his ass. Yet he still had the air of a dignified** Freedom Fighter** as he approached the arachnid on the windowsill.

Gently he picked up the spider, opened the window and released it.

_Vive l'resistance!_

* * *

Kids walked up and down the grocery store aisles following a store clerk dressed as **Tony the Tiger**.

Grissom saw the character as he found Sara. But he paid more attention to her cart than the cereal icon.

"What's this?" he asked holding a package of ground sirloin.

"You said you were craving a burger."

Not caring who noticed, Grissom drew Sara to him and kissed her passionately.

After they broke, Tony passed them, then sprinted to the breakroom. The clerk took off the tiger head and speed dialed.

"MOM! You're not going to believe this!" Lindsey said excitedly.

* * *

She found him staring at a electrical pole in front of the crime scene. The source of his fascination: a homemade sign that read, "MISSING: **Jorge **the cat."

"You've seen that cat?" Sara asked.

"Yes," Grissom said thoughtfully. "All over the block." He and Sara went to other poles: some south and some north of the crime scene. Then they returned. "The other signs are at the level where a child would post it."

"This is taped higher up," Sara completed his thought.

With a gloved hand, Grissom retrieved the questionable sign. They found a bloody fingerprint along the back.

* * *

"There ain't no way, no way you came from my loins. I'm going home to kick your mama in the butt," Nick said with a thick southern accent, leading Greg to double over in laughter as they stood in the breakroom.

Applauding, Sara asked. "What was that?"

"Jackie Gleason in 'Smokey and the **Bandit**,'" Nick said. "One of my specialties."

After shift, the arrival at the shared townhouse and some lovemaking, Sara's mind floated to the breakroom.

"Do you do any impressions?" she asked.

"Sure."

"What?"

"A man good enough for your love."

She sighed. It was definitely Grissom's specialty.

* * *

**Max** Sullivan stood in handcuffs beside his court appointed attorney awaiting his sentencing.

He'd been found guilty of two counts of manslaughter: his wife and a neighbor. He hadn't intended killing either women before breakfast that ill fated morning, but shit happened. He'd had a bad morning that day, spilling jello, killing his wife, then accidentally killing his neighbor, babysitting Suzy, then trying to dispose of Paula's body and ending up stuck in cement.

Captain James Brass and Catherine Willows, of the Crime Lab had testified for the prosecution. As had Suzy, who was such a cute little thing, and her mother. He'd spoken to Jimbo and Cathy before the trial. They had promised as much leniency as had his defense attorney. Suzy smiled and waved at him, blowing him a kiss, while her mother ignored him.

He silently prayed as the bailiff announced the return of the judge. All his life he'd been scared that one day, the karma would kick him in the ass for performing euthanasia of a sorts on his grandmother. He held his breath as the judge read the penalty. A sigh of relief at the judgment of the two 25 year terms concurrently served.

* * *

"Looks like she died a little while after her daddy read her this **fairy tale**," Grissom held the children's book in his hand, sadly looking down at the title.

"Grissom, are you alright?"

"Yes, Sara. It's just strange."

"The victim was a 46 year old woman, who died of a heart-attack in the midst of role playing a toddler. Her 'daddy' dumped her body in a dumpster off Fremont Street," Sara challenged.

"No, the human depravity element isn't what bothers me. It's that I had this book when I was a child. My father read it to me every night."

* * *

So beautiful. So captivating. Grissom knew his feelings for her would get him in trouble.

He couldn't say no. He tried. He stayed professional, but couldn't help flirting. At first, it was innocent, almost unconsciously done. Then, consciously. Very consciously.

When he placed his hands upon her face, he prayed she wouldn't tell him to stop.

And she didn't.

It was passionate. She was mesmerizing. For that moment, she captured him intellectually, physically. She ignited him.

But it wasn't enough because it wasn't her.

That's why, although she was so beautiful and so captivating, **sex **with Lady Heather became meaningless.

* * *

He pulled the SUV off that lonely desert road leaving **clouds **of dust in his wake.

He almost lost her among the sun-beaten rocks. He did lose of a part of her, and himself.

During her absence, her phone calls would fuel him, but even her voice couldn't expel his own sad demons, especially after that scene in the alley. Warrick probably did find some peace dying in Grissom's arms, but Grissom didn't want to let him go.

Yet, he let her go.

Foolish.

_I need another path,_ he thought. _Go to the desert and say goodbye._

So, he did.

* * *

The drug deal went wrong. Very, very wrong.

12 dead, 7 wounded.

Fortunately, it was only the dealers and the rival dealers who perished and were injured in the blood bath. Unfortunately, it left a lot to process. All hands were on deck.

They knew there were far worse scenes to process. Where women, the elderly, children, families, even animals were abused, tortured and killed.

Brass stepped into the kitchen to find Warrick. The door to the freezer was open, causing three tubs of **ice cream **to melt.

"Damn shame, huh Rick?"

"Yeah," Warrick said. "Damn shame about the Breyers."

* * *

Grissom went to the Denali to load evidence and released the last police officer from the scene.

A man came through a window in the adjoining room. The surprising sight of an intruder ranting and brandishing a gun caused Nick to immediately arm himself.

Nick stayed alert. He noticed Grissom silently stand in the hallway behind the intruder.

"Come on," Nick pleaded, his weapon drawn. "We're all **friends **here. Put down your gun."

Grissom took a stealth step forward.

"Really, asshole? Well, how's this, buddy?"

Grissom moved quickly to tackle him. But the gun was already in the man's mouth.

* * *

TBC

A/N: MSCSIFANGSR: This set contains my favorite drabble written by the fabulous JellyBeanChiChi...can you figure out which one it is? :)

You like something I wrote? I'm touched. :-) Tell us what you think of the drabbles.  
And... Bondye beni-w Haiti.


	12. Chapter 12

Who Drabbled What?  
Chapter Twelve  
By MSCSIFANGSR and JellyBeanChiChi

Drabbles from last chapter: 101, 102, 103, 104, 107, 108, 109, 110 by JellyBeanChiChi and 105, 106 by MSCSIFANGSR

KadianScripter is the winner, again! Kad got 8/10 correct. Thanks for all the happy reviews...JellyBean happens to think there's nothing better than a review, so appease her. She handles all the hard work involved in this story, while I goof off most of the time.

Prompts given by **G****iwu**: 111. Yahoo 112. Horatio Caine 113. Iowa 114. Smegma 115. Booger  
Prompts given by **Keeganelizabeth**: 116. Pantyhose 117. Stripes 118. Bottle Cap 119. Childhood 120. Giraffe (Double Drabble)

* * *

The morning after the first time Sara spent the night at Grissom's townhouse, she awoke earlier than he.

She ducked quickly under the covers, creatively arousing him into a full wakeful state.

When he came, it surprised him; never had a woman done that to him. He wanted to return the compliment, but Sara slipped out of bed and walked toward the door.

He panicked, "Where are you going?"

"To use your computer. I need to check my **Yahoo** mail."

"Huh?"

"Griss, I'm going to the bathroom."

"Will you come back to bed when you're done?"

"Yes."

"Thank you, dear."

* * *

"**Horatio Caine**!" Catherine exclaimed. "That was the dumbass Warrick and I worked with in Miami."

She recalled the story to Warrick's coworkers and friends. She opened her house after the funeral to anyone who wished to celebrate and remember Warrick's life. Food and booze slightly lightened up the somber occasion.

"Warrick wanted to go because he'd never been to Florida, but I got to go to Alligator Alley to cover for a certain someone," Catherine recalled as she shot a glance at Grissom.

The old friends smiled at each other. Truthfully, Catherine asked to go with Warrick.

Supervisor Grissom obliged.

* * *

"Greg! I can't hear the score of the Outback Bowl."

Greg hadn't realized his singing was irritating anyone. He saw that Nick had the TV remote in hand, pressing the volume control higher.

The sound of anchorman on ESPN took over the breakroom. "And in the match-up between **Iowa** and Florida, it was too little too late for the Buckeyes as the Gators hung on to win 31-24."

"Damn, I lost money on that one, I shouldn't've listened to Warrick's tips on college football."

"Dude, Warrick?"

"I figured if he couldn't bet on it, then I could."

Both men laughed.

* * *

"Did you find anything useful on the body?"

Albert Robbins cleared his throat before answering Sara's question. "_Pediculus humanu capitus_ in the scalp; _pediculus humanus humanus_ in the pubic area; **smegma** subcutaneous to the foreskin; feces caked perianally; numerous scabs and scratches across the body. I haven't begun the internal autopsy yet."

Sara backed away a bit when she heard Doc say "lice," but her eyebrows arched, "What's smegma?"

"Do you mind if I'm a bit crude with my answer?" Sara shook her head as he continued. "Dick gunk."

"Not much opportunity for a hot bath when you're homeless."

* * *

It was a moment that changed their relationship.

"OUCH! What are you doing?!" Grissom kept a hand on the wheel, but his right hand covered his nose. "You just picked my nose!"

"You had a **booger**."

"So? You could have said ..."

"It was staring at me."

"I have a handkerchief!"

"It taunted me. Spoke to me: 'Sara! Come get me!'"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I had no choice."

"DON'T TOUCH MY NOSE AGAIN!" His voice was more 12-year-oldish then 50-year-oldish.

They drove in silence for a minute, then Grissom asked. "Sara? Are there any more?"

* * *

Sara's thoughts ventured back to the day she'd pulled the booger out of his nose while they were driving to a crime scene back when they had been CSI's. Later that afternoon he'd proposed for real, not the bee-sting suggestion, but a down on his knees, with ring in hand proposal.

She smoothed down her **pantyhose** before donning her wedding dress for the church ceremony his mother had insisted upon. Olivia Grissom stood next to Sara fidgeting with some flowers.

"I'm glad you're marrying my son."

"I'm glad he'd have me."

"I don't think there was any doubt about it."

* * *

He sat leisurely on the bed with his legs crossed. His glasses slid a smidge down his nose as he read a book.

Sara entered the room, but all she saw were those damn pajamas.

"I didn't sign on to sleep with Dick Van Dyke."

Grissom smiled at her, "How is that, my dear?"

"The perfectly-pressed pajamas with **stripes**? I'm surprised we don't have two twin beds."

"These feel good pressed," he said as she slipped into bed with him and started unbuttoning his top.

Hours later, he admitted the pajamas feel damn good balled up on the floor.

* * *

The six-year-old possessed evidence he found at the crime scene. He spoke to no one, not even his mother. He stared blankly and hummed.

His mother confirmed what Grissom already surmised. Autism.

"Hi, I'm Gil." The boy looked at him for a short moment then continued to hum. His left fist was closed tightly. "Find something for your collection?"

The boy perked up. "**Bottle cap**." He opened his hand briefly to show a bullet casing.

Grissom went to the convenience store nearby and returned to show the boy 11 different caps. "Trade?"

The boy smiled and opened his fist.

* * *

Greg did a spit take at Brass, who just shared a treasured moment of his **childhood** — the day he rode a horse in Central Park.

"What the problem, Sanders?"

"No, it's just," Greg still couldn't hide his mirth. "I'm just picturing a mini-Brass, in a mini-crumpled suit…"

"With a badge and a bottle of scotch," Nick added, causing them to laugh.

"Now, wait," Catherine interrupted. "I'm sure Jim was a cute little boy."

"With cute curly hair," Jim added.

"Yeah, well, not anymore!" Greg said.

"I still got _some_ curly hairs," Jim said as he winked at Catherine.

* * *

He began by kissing the tip of each of her toes; he grazed over her foot and ankle; he burrowed up her long tanned legs; and inhaled deeply the scent of her arousal.

"I love you, Sara."

The vibrations from his words, reverberated through every nerve in her body. The sensations weakened her ability to speak. She reached down with both hands to drag him up to her lips, but he wouldn't budge from his spot between her legs.

Tentatively, his tongue darted to gently brush against her clit, savoring her most basic essence.

Sara's body bolted up like she'd been electrocuted as Gil's hands gripped her waist to hold her in place.

The sound of his muted laughter resuscitated her ability to speak.

"Love you, too."

"You have legs like a **giraffe**."

Sara looked down at him and stated, "That's not exactly a compliment. Sophia Loren once said something like, _I even walk like a giraffe with a long neck and legs. It's a pretty dumb animal, mind you_."

"They are long, strong and a work of nature." His tongue darted out again, bringing her to the edge of pleasure.

"Well, when you put it like that..."**_

* * *

_**

TBC

Just so you guys know, there will be a writer to be named later, who took over my (MSCSIFANGSR's) place for a few drabbles while I was otherwise occupied by life. Oh, and I stole Grissom's mother's name from a lot of other writers, ooops, I didn't mean to say that...


	13. Chapter 13

Who Drabbled What?  
Chapter Thirteen  
By MSCSIFANGSR and JellyBeanChiChi

Drabbles from last chapter: 111, 112, 115, 117, 118, 119 by JellyBeanChiChi and 113, 114, 116, 120 by MSCSIFANGSR  
How about the guessers, this week? Huh? We had a close one -- KadianScripter with 9 out of 10 closely followed by Sillym3 with 8 of 10. Wow.  
To all the reviewers who just plain review, your stuff is loved as well! Thanks to everyone for all their support.

Prompts given by **ELM22**: 121. Horn Blowing, Pansy Boy 122. Tartar Sauce 123. Milk Drinking Freak-a-zoid, 124. Lemon sucking, squid squishing, ass slapping, fucked up moron 125. Look up her skirt.  
Prompts given by **feakinlove**: 126. Extract 127. Mist 128. Overnight 129. Atomic 130. Pads

* * *

Spending time in the field was not Hodges idea of a productive day. As he stood with Nick and watched David assume coroner duties, Hodges asked, "Why do you call him Super Dave?"

"Cause... it's his nickname. What? You've never had a nickname?"

Hodges fidgeted which didn't go unnoticed to the CSI. "Spill, Hodges. What was the nickname."

"I was second chair coronet in the band. Unfortunately, a certain jock didn't understand my talent and called me **Horn Blowing, Pansy Boy**."

"No kidding," Nick said. "Still hurts, huh?"

"No. I have a successful career, and he sells Slurpees, the pansy."

* * *

"I'm hungry."

"Me, too. But I'm not sure what I have..."

"You have nothing."

"Don't exaggerate," Sara said. "I'm sure I have something."

Grissom stood in front of the open refrigerator. "Sara. Even your box of baking soda is empty."

"You're a smart man. Make something up with what I have."

Ten minutes later, Grissom approached Sara with a tray table. On it were three packages of string cheese, a lime, seven saltines and a jar of **tartar sauce.** He accented the meal with a daisy in a plastic cup.

"Bon appetit, my love."

Sara smiled. "Take out. I'll drive."

* * *

Brass and Sara questioned their suspect, a militant vegan with an attitude, who lashed out at Brass, "I don't have to listen to you… you … **Milk Drinking Freak-a-zoid**!"

"Au contraire," Brass said. "Sara, does that title stick if I use soy milk in my Morning Joe?"

"Nah. Have you tried almond milk? With chocolate?"

"Oh, sounds interesting," Brass said, his hand under his chin.

"Put that in coffee, with ice… instant iced caffe mocha."

"You want me to write down the recipe for you, buddy?"

The suspect rolled his eyes. He hated cops.

* * *

"That's not what happened," said 9-year-old Annette Blaise.

"Yes, it was," said her 7-year-old brother, Colt.

Before the "uh uhhs!" could start, Nick got between the siblings, "OK, why don't you tell me why you guys were in front of the pawn shop?"

"We were at the park down the street, but Colt got some a bully angry."

Colt proudly continued. "He wanted our money, so I said, 'No way you **lemon-sucking, squid-squishing, ass-slapping, fucked-up moron.**'"

Nick laughed. "Well, better to fight with words, than your fists."

"Yeah, and shout it while you bike as fast as you can," Colt added.

* * *

"Don't tell me you wouldn't if you could," Nick drawled, as he drank his coffee in the breakroom.

"I don't need to." Greg winked, "I've already seen her naked."

Nick's eyebrows arched, "Oh really, when was that?"

"Decontamination shower. April 14, 2005."

"That wasn't the question." Warrick piped in.

Grissom walked in carrying an arm-full of files. "What was the question? Greg, spill it."

"Okay, This is Sara we're talking about: would you **look up her skirt**, if given the opportunity?"

Grissom smirked, but didn't answer; placed the files on the table.

* * *

"So before Lindsey leaves for school, she tells me to bring 36 homemade cupcakes to her class in an hour. No time to shop, so I'm searching for flour, vanilla **extract**, whatever the hell you need for cupcakes."

Catherine wondered if Grissom was paying attention as he drove.

"So.... I made a dough with Ajax, sugar, ham... did I mention I was naked? Icing all over me."

"Right," Grissom said.

"Come on, Gil. I'm talking to myself. What's on your mind?"

"Our theory on Jackson is wrong."

"How?"

"I'll explain, but should we buy icing first?"

"You're such an asshole."

* * *

"I hate driving through this weather," Nick said as he alternatively pressed for wiper fluid and moved the blades over the wet windshield. "This **mist** makes it just wet enough to be dangerous."

"Stop stalling, Stokes. Answer the question or take a letter," Sara said.

Members of the night shift had a tradition of playing mental horse during long rides from scenes. Nick usually did well. Not tonight.

"Umm... Pascal?"

"Euclid is the father of geometry."

"Damn," Nick said. "You and Grissom always win. You should play a game with him."

"I hate playing games with Grissom," Sara said seriously.

* * *

The first time Hank stayed **overnight** with Sara, Grissom had gone to a conference. She enjoyed having the dog at her apartment; Hank provided her with entertainment and a sense of comfort she hadn't realized she'd been missing.

The second time the dog stayed with her, Grissom's aunt had passed away in LA.

The third time, she'd asked if Hank could keep her company on her days off, while Grissom worked.

And then Grissom began to drop by her place, unannounced, with Hank. They would share coffee, talking about work or Hank.

Before too long, Grissom starting staying overnight, too.

* * *

Sara, Warrick and Greg walked among the sweet and sour rubble left after a break-in at Patchy's Candy Emporium.

"Now why would they just let all those SweetTarts go to waste, and all these **Atomic **Fireballs go untouched," Warrick said. "That's just wrong."

"Fireballs are good candy," Greg said.

"No, it's punishment," Sara added as she wandered toward the back room.

"Typical girl, all you care about is the chocolate. Never thinking about the myriad of flavors to savor sucking on the right sweet," Greg's eyes twinkled.

Sara reappeared. "I care about chocolate and this stash of cocaine I found."

* * *

What began with slow soft kisses morphed into full-blown open mouthed, tongues dueling sensual warfare. Their clothes were shed without second thought, both were inflamed with desire, hungry for the taste of the other's skin.

They explored the limits of their pleasure, time and again, until Sara's breath slowed when Grissom plunged the length of his cock into her, then quickened as they established an erotic rhythm.

The headboard knocked ruthlessly against the wall, as the **pads** of her fingers traced unrecognizable patterns onto his back, as he pumped mercilessly harder into her sweet warmth until nirvana was mutually achieved.

* * *

TBC  
A/N: I must say, one of these by the poetic MSCSIFANGSR simply knocked my socks off. And one of them was written by JellybeanChiChi during a staff meeting at work. :-)  
I would like to add a special thank you to all the people who offer prompts. While all of them are readers of fanfiction, more than 90 percent of those who offered us prompts write fanfiction themselves. For those of you new to fanfiction you might not recognize some of the names of those who offered prompts, but, believe me, you will want to know their stuff. If you ever need help finding their stuff, give us a buzz and we'll help you out. :-)


	14. Chapter 14

Who Drabbled What?  
Chapter Fourteen  
By MSCSIFANGSR; JellyBeanChiChi and ELM22 (This is the writer who was to be named later, because Chauncey ran out of gas while writing these darn things.)

Drabbles from last chapter: 121, 122, 123, 124,126, 127, 129 by JellyBeanChiChi and 125, 128, 130 by MSCSIFANGSR  
I do believe there was a tie for the last set. Congrats to Kadian and Sillym3! Maybe it was a three way tie? I don't remember... Sylvie did you get 9 out of 10?

Prompts given by **Sonoali**: 131. Out go the lights 132. Back to Vegas? 133. Don't I feel silly? 134. Shark bite! 135. You've changed (Double Drabble)  
Prompts given by **Sillym3**: 136. Paris Hilton 137. Safety 138. Infinity 139. Charger 140. Suave.

* * *

After going through a hundred channels, Grissom finally settled on a black and white movie starring Bela Lugosi.

Then Sara immediately snatched the remote and began channel surfing.

"I know you don't like horror movies, but Dracula... it's a classic," Grissom said.

"I don't watch the horror movies because they are ridiculous. Dracula... scares me," Sara explained. "When I was a kid, I watching the movie with the lights on. Then a lightening bolt hit and BAM! **Out go the lights**."

Grissom turned off the television and kissed Sara. "Come on. There are better ways to enjoy the dark."

* * *

As the Denali moved down the quiet stretch of desert highway Grissom eyed Sara in the seat beside him. She knew that he was watching her and ran her hand up her inner thigh. He quickly pulled the SUV to the side of the road.

"Shouldn't we get **back to Vegas?**" She asked as they both hurriedly unhooked their seat belts.

"Fuck it, you've been teasing me all night." His breaths were heavy and he grabbed her in a desperate kiss.

"You like it and you know it." She retorted.

"Bitch," he growled, squeezing her breast as she passionately moaned.

* * *

"Why **don't I feel silly?**" Nick asked.

"Yeah, you hugged Grissom," Warrick laughed. "In front of everyone."

Nick looked disgusted. "I hugged Grissom. What the hell's wrong with me?"

"Are you and Griss secretly… you know?" Warrick hinted.

Nick looked at his friend and his face grew red with embarrassment. "NO! Of course not!" That said Nick stormed out of the locker room.

Moving down the corridor he found Grissom's office and stepped inside before shutting the door and blinds. Grissom saw Nick's tears and embraced the younger man.

"Come back soon," Nick whispered as they held each other tight.

* * *

Grissom entered Archie's lab with a laptop. "We need access to this victim's records, but everything is password protected."

Archie took a look at the laptop and he immediately recognized a logo stuck upon it. "Did this belong to Kirk McFarland?"

"Yes. It did."

Archie might live in landlocked Vegas but his spirit belonged on a longboard. And surfing champion Kirk McFarland was a legend for decades.

Which is why Archie cranked up the laptop and took a chance.

"I'm in!"

Grissom seemed impressed. "Already??

"**Shark bite!**" Archie said. "Dude survived three attacks in 20 years. Seemed an appropriate password."

* * *

They sat at the table with six dead soldiers in the form of beer bottles in front of them.

"I almost want a cigarette," Sara said.

"Go get some," Catherine said.

"No. That was me a long time ago. At least I can leave that habit behind," Sara said. "Now I have a whole new set of dumbass decisions and shitty relationships to ruin my life. Why add on lung cancer?"

"Sara, Hank cheated on you."

"No, I helped Hank cheat on his fiancee. God, I'm a fucking idiot."

"So, what? You going to regret getting it on with him?"

"That was the idea."

"You know, I don't regret my past. I don't regret Eddie or what I used to do for a living," Catherine said. "But there came a point in my life where I found myself looking in the mirror and saying to myself, '**You've changed**. I don't know you anymore.'"

"So what did you do?"

"I changed again. Stopped the coke, went to school, dumped Eddie, course, he made that part easy since I found him banging some 22-year-old slut, but that's besides the point."

Sara laughed.

"The point is, Sara, don't regret decisions. Just change circumstances."

* * *

Greg looked around the totally destroyed hotel room, where two dead bodies had been found earlier by the housekeeping staff.

"I don't think **Paris Hilton**'s great-grandfather would have approved."

Sara looked up from photographing a body tied to a straight backed chair by duct tape at the new level one CSI.

"_Be my guest_ was his catch phrase. These two guys weren't registered. They just died here."

"Greg, it's a drug deal gone wrong," Sara pointed to the other body also duct taped to a similar chair. "You don't have to wax philosophical on every case."

* * *

During a company softball game, Sara tripped while running to first; had a fly ball bop her on the head in right field; and skinned her knee sliding four feet shy of home plate.

Two days later Grissom thought a game of catch would help. But he insisted she wear gear and loaded her down with a helmet, knee and elbow pads, a chin guard, catcher's mask and mouthguard.

"**Safety **first," he said before laughing hysterically.

He found the scene too funny for Sara's liking. So she kneed him in the crotch.

"You should have worn a cup," she said.

* * *

Sara made a mental movie rental checklist as she wandered through the video store. She expected to find Grissom in the westerns, but saw him among Disney classics. "What are you doing here?"

"This section has everything. Humor, adventure, knights, cowboys..."

"...Talking teapots, unrealistic romances," Sara interrupted.

"Some Disney movies have romantic lines."

"Like 'Someday my prince will come?'" Sara said, with sarcasm. "Please. Give me a break."

"I believe 'Toy Story' has a beautiful, romantic line," he said has he grabbed her in an embrace. "To **infinity** and beyond!"

"I'm sure Buzz wasn't talking about love."

"Well, I am."  


* * *

Grissom followed the black **Charger **through the busy streets of Las Vegas. Both vehicles blared sirens and blue flashing lights. Both he and Brass were late; if misappropriating city property was a serious crime, neither would have considered it.

When they pulled into the chapel, Sara was impatiently standing at the entrance, tapping her foot.

Both men solemnly hurried by her into the sanctuary of the church. Grissom brushed his body against tightly Sara's. She smirked.

The minister's voice carried over the quiet of the room. "Dearly beloved, we are here today to join this couple in holy matrimony."

* * *

Sara dried her hair as Grissom exited the shower, wrapped a towel around his waist and put an empty shampoo bottle on the counter.

Sara looked at the shampoo's label. "Have you ever noticed how some words look similar but don't rhyme with each other?"

Grissom applied shaving cream. "Such as?"

She pointed to the bottle. "**'Suave'** is two letters off from 'mauve.' But they don't rhyme."

"Hmm... Maybe you're saying the words incorrectly."

She gave him a contemplative look, then looked in the mirror and repeated the words with exaggerated pronunciation. "MAAUUve... SUUAAve..."

Grissom grinned. She made mornings fun.

* * *

TBC

For those of you who might not know, Suave is a brand of no-frills shampoo, which is why Sara read the label and started her stream of consciousness. Don't forget to send us a review to let us know which drabbles you think were done by MSCSIFANGSR, JellyBeanChiChi or now the angsty ELM22. Thanks for reading.

And if you are looking for Chauncey, she's out celebrating because the Saints will lose the Superbowl in Miami in two weeks :-)

Doofus! I'm celebrating because the fact that the New Orleans Saints are the forshazzledizzle. WHO DAT? Who dat sayin' dey gonna beat dem Saints? WHO DAT? And don't give me none of that Indianpolis Colts are the best, cause you gotta remember the Colt QB? Well, he's a New Orleans boy himself...:)


	15. Chapter 15

Who Drabbled What?  
Chapter Fifteen  
By MSCSIFANGSR, JellyBeanChiChi and ELM22

Drabbles from last chapter: Jellybean: 131, 134, 135, 137, 138, 140; MSCSIFANGSR: 136, 139; and ELM22: 132, 133  
To those brave enough to guess, we appreciate you all. And now I am officially freaked out. Despite throwing in another author, KadianScripter guessed every single one correctly. I got to tell you, sometimes I can't remember who wrote what and had to think about who got the prompts. So kudos to you, Kadian!

Prompts given by **VRTrakowski**: 141. Agony and ecstasy 142. Utter surprise 143. Antediliuvian 144. Squirmy 145. Rhyme for silver  
Prompts given by **JoanPowers**: 146. Escalator 147. Chocolate Creme Pie 148. Yosemite 149. Masks 150. The Blob (Double Drabble)

* * *

Grissom sat in his uncomfortable easy chair, draining his Scotch.

One person was on his mind. He couldn't decide if it was **agony or ecstasy**.

_It's purely relative. _

_If I can't have her, life would be appalling. _

_If I take the chance, life may be phenomenal. _

_What if it's not, what if..._

He stopped thinking, placing the empty, honeycomb designed glass on the table. He pulled out his cell phone and twenty-five minutes later, a cab dropped him off at Sara's apartment.

It took him a long time to knock, but when he did, she answered with a smile.

* * *

Vegas welcomed the rodeo and wild horses couldn't tear CSIs away... because there was a murder at the rodeo.

While processing among the stalls, Greg couldn't help picturing his supervisor wearing chaps with his lab vest and have a pinch of tobacco in his lip. Greg chuckled under his breathe and daydreamed about being a rodeo clown.

As duo walked to their SUV, Greg couldn't help but continue the levity.

"I'm guessing certain animals there are lonely."

"What are you talking about, Greg?"

"Well, if we saw a cow, that'd be an **utter surprise**."

Grissom smiled. "That sounds like bullshit."

* * *

"**Antediluvian** refers to a period in Biblical history between the creation of the earth and the deluge as described to Noah by God: _I will send rain upon the earth for forty days and forty nights; and I will blot out from the face of the land every living thing I have made_."

"Did you just categorize our relationship in the same manner? You want to 'blot' me out?" Sara's eyebrows spiked.

"No, 'antediluvian' also means _made, evolved, or developed a long time ago_."

"Well it fits in the crossword puzzle, and definitely describes my love for you."

* * *

"Dammit Gil. This is gross."

She was the only one who knew where he was and he looked so vulnerable after his hearing surgery when he asked for the favor.

"God, I'm a sucker," Catherine thought as she stood in Grissom's office.

She's taken down suspects while wearing kitten heels. How hard could it be to feed a spider?

Catherine took off the jar's lid and shuddered as she looked at those **squirmy **mealworms.

_Now what? _She thought. Then she saw a spikey-haired man pass by the office.

"GREG!" She yelled. "Get over here. I've got a job for you."

* * *

The interrogation resembled a poker game that featured Brass, Grissom and Jasper Remington, a suspect who regularly swindled get-rich-quick tourists who made pilgrimages to Vegas.

"Jasper, let's cut the shit," Brass said, his patience at the breaking point. "We know you witnessed the murder. Come clean."

Jasper wasn't ready to fold. "I'll tell you what you need to know, when you tell me a **rhyme for silver**," Jasper dared.

"Chilver."

Both Brass and Jasper shot looks at Grissom.

"An old English term meaning a ewe lamb."

Brass smiled. "You made a bet with the wrong man, Jasper. Pay up."

* * *

"I bet escalators are jealous of elevators."

"And how is that, Miss Sidle?"

"Well, you never hear about the wild things happening on escalators, but elevators... there are all kinds of stories of a carnal nature," Sara said, as she caressed his arm.

"The longest freestanding escalator is in Atlanta. Rises eight stories and is 205 feet long. The world's shortest **escalator **rises only 32.8 inches."

"You see what you did?"

"What?"

"You took a sexual innuendo and transformed it into a Jeopardy! factoid."

"Let me try again." Grissom said. "Should we have sex on the escalator?"

"Maybe later."

"OK."

* * *

"What a waste of a perfectly good **chocolate crème pie**." Brass grinned as he looked down at his colleague's backside. Grissom glared at him and the detective laughed.

"My pie," Greg whined as he looked down at the crushed tin plate. "You crushed my pie."

"You set it in my chair," Grissom retorted.

"But… my pie."

Greg and Brass filed out of the room to leave Grissom to stew. But Sara remained, and smiled as she looked down to his ass.

"Want me to lick it off for you?" She grinned as his eyes widened and his pants became tight.

* * *

Sure, it was a little adventurous, but hell, it was only facial hair.

And he kind of liked it. Reminded him of a rugged cowboy who used to roam the Texas range. _Yeah. Man's man. Well, not that type of man's man._.._ Damn that Greg. Calling it a "pornstache." Where's my cowboy hat?_

He found it and donned it. Along with his jeans, cowboy boots and a button-up, long-sleeved shirt.

He was the first of the gang to arrive at the country-western bar.

Sara was second. "What's happening, **Yosemite **Sam?"

Nick sighed. He would shave later tonight.

* * *

To get to a crime scene, they walked through warehouse-sized dressing room full of women dressed in heels, fishnet stockings, stage bikinis and Mardi Gras **masks**.

Sara noticed the grin upon Grissom's face. "Enjoying the view?"

Grissom visibly blushed. "Some women in this room do look beautiful."

"Well, Gil Grissom. I never took you for a tits and ass man."

Leaning close to her, he said, _"Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, and therefore is winged Cupid painted blind."_** His hand found the small of her back. "Besides, your tits and ass are gorgeous, my dear."

** "A Midsummer's Night Dream"

* * *

"I look like **the Blob**." Sara groaned as she looked down at her very pregnant belly in disgust.

Grissom smiled behind the newspaper he was reading. "Funny, you don't look slimy… _yet_."

A pillow sailed through the air, striking the newspaper, which led both items to strike his face.

"You haven't seen the Blob yet, mister," Sara said. "I'll show you the Blob when I sit on your face."

He quirked an eyebrow at her proposal and stood up. She watched as he moved over and sat next to her on the couch. There was no way in hell he was getting nookie now but he surprised her when he rested his hand on her bulging stomach.

"Sara, you look beautiful and I love the image of you carrying our child. It's something that I have dreamed of for years." He moved forward and kissed her gently on the lips. "You will always be beautiful to me. Not matter how your body changes."

She tried not to smile but quickly gave in and rested her head against his and covered his hand with hers.

"I love you, Sara,"

"I love you too, Gil."

Words were lost in a passion-filled kiss.

* * *

TBC

A/N: I can't mention enough how these prompts come from authors of fanfic themselves. VRTrakowski was one of my first betas, along with CSIGeekFan way back in chapter 2. I can't say enough about these two writers, along with so many of the other writers who gave prompts for this series. And the best part is some of the writers have been in GSR fanfic from the beginning, some entered in the middle, and others are newbies. All I can say is check their stuff out. And to ILoveJorja (whose prompts are still to come), thanks for the mention in "Rain." :-)


	16. Chapter 16

Who Drabbled What?  
Chapter Sixteen  
By MSCSIFANGSR, JellyBeanChiChi and ELM22

Drabbles from last chapter: 142, 144, 145, 146,148, 149 by JellyBeanChiChi; 141, 143, by MSCSIFANGSR and 147, 150 by ELM22.

SylvieT: 2/10! Kadian 6/10! Sillym3 8/10! Sillym3 is the current winner! (added by MS, because Jellybean must have forgotten.)

Prompts given by **obsessedwithstabler**: 151. Bathtub, Cast 152. Spider, Newspaper 153 Puppy, Juicy Fruit 154. Silk, Boxers 155. Filthy, Dumpster. (This set of 5 will have two prompts per drabble.)  
Prompts given by **Danceoftheheart**: 156. Leaves 157. Umbrella 158. Lollipop 159. Drill 160. Home-Run.

* * *

As Sara tried to inch her way out of the **bathtub**, she found that unless she had a little help, she was stuck in the rapidly cooling water for a while.

_Damn this __**cast**__._

_Damn Grissom if he doesn't get his ass over here and help me now_!

"Grissom!" she bellowed.

Gil bounded into the bathroom but could not contain his laughter. A naked and wet Sara Sidle was a sight to behold.

"What the hell are you staring at? Help me up."

He assisted her into full standing, handed her a towel, then dried her body thoroughly.

* * *

She looked around his office. Everything was the same, but it looked ... different.

Volumes after volumes of books on bugs, crime, biology, forensics, literature. Was that a few books on physics she saw?

His cluttered desk. His framed cowboy memorabilia. The crossword puzzles from the _New York Times_ and the local **newspaper**. An extra jacket draped across his desk. And his **spider**.

Nothing unusual.

Except now this stuff belonged the man who finally shared his love for her.

She didn't know where she was going, but she knew nothing would look the same from this point forward.

* * *

"He's not a **puppy**, Sara. He should know the difference between his toys and my good shoes."

Hank knew the bigger one was mad at him because he used that loud voice. But the smaller one wasn't because she scratched him behind the ears.

Hank loved the smaller one.

Grissom thought he was winning, then Sara rolled her eyes and smiled. It was a dangerous look for Grissom, because all he could concentrate on was her eyes and the way she fiddled with the **Juicy Fruit **wrapper in her hands.

Hank wasn't the only one who loved the smaller one.

* * *

That familiar brown jacket covering an ordinary polo shirt he spent three minutes pressing. His perky ass hidden under his pressed, baggy slacks.

His dark blue suit, accented with a pressed light blue shirt and a perfectly knotted blue tie.

His crisp tuxedo.

All outfits in which she would drink the sight of him and then passionately disrobe and devour him.

But the sight of him in the morning, smiling at her while bare-chested and dressed in a pair of flannel **boxers **as he's pouring her a glass of **Silk**...

It's a sight that feeds her heart and soul.

* * *

"**Filthy**, friggin' **dumpster**," Nick grumbled as he stormed past Grissom's office.

"What's wrong with him?" Grissom asked as he watched the younger man head towards the showers.

"There are few times in a woman's life when her age comes in handy," Catherine grinned at her friend and colleague. "And this was one of them."

"Catherine, your gonna make a hell of a good supervisor some day." Grissom smiled. "That is, if your retirement wasn't coming right up."

Her jaw dropped as he moved back into his office. That would be the last time she ever used her age as clout.

* * *

**Leaves** rustled around Sara's feet as she pulled her coat around her a little tighter. Gil wanted to bring her to New England for a few days to get away from all of the hustle and horrors of Vegas. There was an earthy scent from the orange, yellow and red leaves on the ground. She turned when she felt his presence.

Gil smiled as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a passionate kiss as the confetti of leaves continued to fall around them.

"I'm glad you came," he smiled softly.

"Me too," she caressed his cheek.

* * *

The Duncan Lapinsky case -- the source of Grissom's bad mood. Somehow, Sara got Grissom home after his third consecutive shift, and seventh in three days.

They sat to watch mindless television. Immediately after the opening credits, criticisms flew.

"Blood splatter's all wrong."

"Coroner's not wearing gloves."

"Detective came out of the rain with a dry **umbrella**."

"They show a .38 revolver using ammo for a .45."

Twenty minutes later, Grissom's attention waned.

"Gris?"

"It's never that easy for us."

Sara drew him into a hug.

Television couldn't erase Grissom's memory of finding little Duncan's body two days ago.

* * *

Grissom smiled at the young child before him as she kicked her feet back in forth under her chair. She was three years old and the only witness to a robbery. Despite witnessing a crime the girl was the picture of innocence as she sucked on her **lollipop**.

"You're sure this is the man you saw?"

"Uh-huh,"

Satisfied that they had all they needed Grissom had one last question he had to ask.

"How's that lollipop?"

"Good," she looked at him expectantly. "You want a lick?"

"No thank you, kiddo," he grinned.

She giggled and left with her smiling mother.

**

* * *

**

"Where the hell is Sara?" Catherine said after storming into Grissom's office. "She's supposed to be working on my evidence."

"I asked her to **drill** Greg."

Catherine snickered. "Did you tell them to use protection?"

"Greg has to pass an exam in three hours. Sara left a report on your desk."

His comment created the desired effect. Catherine left his office with his door ajar.

Now alone, Grissom said to himself, "If anyone's going to use protection with Sara, it's gonna be me."

He instantly regretted his slip of tongue when he heard Catherine's gasp from outside his office door.

**

* * *

**

"Hey, Sara," Warrick said as he entered the breakroom. "How'd you do in court?"

"Awesome," she glowed. "I hit a **home run**."

"Sara Sidle using a sports reference?" Warrick laughed. "Give me four more, and dinner's on me."

"I... did an end zone dance... Two points, nothin' but net... Served an ace... I ..."

Sara faltered but saw Grissom standing behind an unsuspecting Warrick. He pointed at his cap and acted like he was taking a quarter out of Warrick's ear.

"Got a hat trick!"

"Damn!" Warrick lamented. "I hate eating that veggie shit."

Grissom grinned from ear to ear.

**

* * *

**

TBC  
A/N: These were fun prompts. We're almost to the end of the prompts. What a fun ride. Hope you all enjoy.


	17. Chapter 17

Who Drabbled What?  
Chapter Seventeen  
By MSCSIFANGSR, JellyBeanChiChi and ELM22

Drabbles from last chapter: 152, 153, 154 157, 159, 160 by JellyBeanChiChi; 151 by MSCSIFANGSR and 155, 156, 158 by ELM22.  
Sorry I forgot to say who correctly answered last time. This time it's easy. KadianScripter, COME ON DOWN! You're the latest contestant who answered "WHO DRABBLED WHAT?"  
Way to go, girl.

Prompts given by **Alice Day**: 161. Sunlight 162. Gun oil 163. Blush 164. Sticky 165. Fashion (Double Drabble).  
Prompts given by **TMSchmit**: 166. Orgasm 167. Scruff 168. Silk 169. Chocolate 170. Smile.

* * *

"Damn, the sun's bright," Nick said as he and Grissom walked to the SUV. "When did that happen?"

"Two hours ago. Amazing how nature creeps up on you," Grissom quipped.

"Yeah, especially when you've searched for evidence for five hours. Still pisses me off we couldn't find the murder weapon."

"Let's log what we have. And then …"

Grissom stopped and stood with his gaze fixed on the road.

"Hey Gris? What is it?"

Nick's eyes followed the same path as Grissom's. A beam of **sunlight** shined upon the barrel of a .38 set in the muck under a storm grate.

* * *

Bobby Dawson dribbled **gun oil** onto the rusted barrel of a Wesson .357 as ABIS ran in the background on the bullet he'd just test fired.

He looked up when the computer program 'binged', but kept cleaning the wooden handled weapon. After four more bings, Bobby was intrigued. He got up and went to the computer.

The first hit: Unsolved case from 1982 in New Mexico. Second bing: Arizona, 1988 unsolved murder. Two more hits: one from Colorado and another in California, both from 1996.

He text the information to the CSI who'd found the gun at a crime scene.

* * *

"I don't know about this place Greg," Sara said. "It looks kinda froo froo."

The duo had a day off and decided to catch a matinee. Afterward, they found an interesting bistro.

"How bad can it be?" Greg said. "Desserts in the window look great."

They went to the front counter and Greg smiled. Bad move.

"Excuse me," said an effeminate man behind the counter. "Are you wearing blush?"

"I'm a guy."

"Oh, lots of manly men wear **blush**. It simply makes the cheekbones more irresistible."

Sara surprised Greg and grabbed his ass. "See? He's blushing. I'll have the eclair."

* * *

A vigorous love-making session left the couple sated, but after 20 minutes of afterglow, Sara wanted to clean up then return to her lover's warm embrace.

Grissom moved on the bed after she left.

She returned and said, "Move over."

"I'm so comfortable here. Come to the other side, honey."

She smirked. "You do look comfortable, babe, but no."

"Come on..."

"Nope. You're the gnarly boy, so you have to deal with that part of the bed."

"You think I'm gnarly?" he pouted.

"At this moment while I try to avoid sleeping on the **sticky** spot? I sure do."

* * *

"It's stupid," Sara argued as she shut her locker door.

"It's **fashion**." Nick countered.

Warrick and Catherine nodded and sat down on one of the benches. Grissom leaned against his locker and listened as Sara continued to vent her frustrations.

"These poor women are made to believe that they can't be beautiful if they don't starve themselves on a daily basis and take all kinds of treatments to make themselves pretty and fake. Then, in order to relieve all of that imposed stress and tension, most of them turn to drugs and alcohol. Where does it stop? When they starve themselves to death or overdose?"

Sara shook her head and dropped her tired body onto the bench next to Nick. No one knew what to say to ease her feelings of frustration and they all felt the same way.

"I think people forget that healthy is beautiful." Grissom said and they all looked at him. "When you take care of your body you don't need to starve yourself or wear loads of makeup to be beautiful. Physical beauty is only skin deep, maybe that's why it doesn't matter as much as the beauty of who you are as a person."

* * *

Sara listened as her college roommate talked about her latest culinary adventure.

"First it was Chez Traviesa where I ordered three appetizers and the duck for the main course. I ate one bite each and boxed the rest," she said. "But, we went to that coffee shop on Alcott for desert. Sara, you've got to try the chocolate cake. Automatic **orgasm**, and God knows you could use one."

"I'll try it once I meet the right guy," Sara mused as she left to go to a seminar.

That's where she first saw Grissom. She wondered if he liked chocolate cake.

* * *

Grissom had prepared himself to witness Nick with the welts from the angry ants that attacked his body in the coffin.

It had been two full days since Nick arrived at the hospital. Grissom waited to see him because he didn't want to intrude on Nick's family. He steeled himself so he could offer the young man a brave face to let Nick know his supervisor, and friend, was there for him.

But when Grissom saw his usually clean-cut subordinate with **scruff**, Grissom could only swallow the lump in his throat and wipe the tears leaking from his eyes.

* * *

Sara felt like **silk **as Grissom moved inside her. Her warmth enveloped him and when he looked down into her passionate eyes; she entranced him. Her soft hands moved over his naked body and her slender fingers danced across his rippling muscles.

He panted with effort as his thrusts quickened with need and she wrapped her legs around his waist. When she climaxed his name came from her lips like an angel singing a praise to the heavens. In that moment, any questions that remained about his worthiness for her were chased away as he climaxed then held her close.

* * *

Grissom followed the trail of unwrapped packaging through the house. He supposed if he disliked anything dealing with Halloween, it would be his daughter's total disregard for cleaniness after trick or treating.

"Alaia?" He shouted after knocking forcifully on her bedroom door, in which he'd gotten no response.

The father in him was concerned as he opened the door to see his princess laying on her bed, face covered in **chocolate**, sleeping happily.

Gil closed the door and made his way to the master bedroom.

"Is she okay?" Sara asked as he crawled in bed.

"Yes, dear."

* * *

As Sara checked over her luggage, she caught Grissom staring at her.

She flashed him a **smile** and he reciprocated. Still no joy permeated the room.

They both plastered fake smiles since her decision. He didn't totally understand her reasoning. But he wanted to trust her decision. Subside his insecurities. He feared if he said something it would be the wrong thing and they'd be lost again.

She didn't know why Paris wasn't enough, but it wasn't. Would Vegas be enough? It wasn't before.

"You ready?"

"Yes."

They left for the airport. "Thanks for letting me drive you this time."

* * *

TBC  
So, tomorrow is one of our birthdays. And this particular writer hates birthdays. So be sure to tease her by reviewing the drabbles. This is actually just a shameless plug to get reviews. This one particular writer is being a bit whorish asking for reviews. Now she feels dirty. Great. She feels dirty and old. No wonder she hates birthdays.


	18. Chapter 18

Who Drabbled What?  
Chapter Eighteen  
By MSCSIFANGSR, JellyBeanChiChi and ELM22

Drabbles from last chapter: 161, 163, 164, 166, 167, 170 by JellyBeanChiChi and 162, 169 by MSCSIFANGSR and 165, 168 by ELM22.  
OK, I am not doing well. I have to offer soooo many apologies. First, Silly is mad at me for not remembering she won a couple of chapters ago. Apparently she had an acceptance speech, and I played the house music way too soon after she was ready to accept her award. How bad am I?  
Well, it gets worse. In the last chapter I told KadianScripter "Way to go, girl!" and by doing so, I inadvertently insulted his penis. Wow. Who has egg on her face? Well, not Kadian, because he's a dude and is without ovaries and therefore does not produce eggs. Am I going on a tangent here? I am doing so indeed. This is what I do. I do so apologize. I'll stop typing now.  
And the winner of the last chapter? Well, Sylvie did well (silly refused to answer on grounds of protest), but KadianScripter is the big weiner! WINNER! I meant WINNER! Why does MSCSIFANGSR let me do these intros?

Prompts given by **IloveJorja**: 171. Grissom splits his pants 172. Bucket of paint 173. Sophia freaks out 174. House Fire 175. Sara is hypnotized.  
Prompts given by **Chelles**: 176. Midnight 177. Popcorn 178. Twinkling lights 179. Grass 180. Passport (Double Drabble).

* * *

"She's a great criminalist, Conrad. And I need her."

"I'm sure you do. You know what? She's a loose cannon with a gun. And she's all yours."

Ecklie pushed Sara's file across his desk and toward Grissom, causing it to fall on the floor. Ecklie's enjoyed the taste of satisfaction as Grissom -- his subordinate -- took the unspoken cue to pick it up.

When he bent over, **Grissom split his pants**. Icing on the cake.

"Conrad, are you listening to me?"

Catherine's voice broke Ecklie out of his daydream. Grissom had left with his pants and pride intact.

* * *

Sara held Grissom's uninjured hand as they waited for the doctor.

_When the suspect at their latest scene decided to make a run for it he shoved Grissom hard, knocking him over backwards. The officers subdued him but it hadn't helped Grissom any. As he stumbled back, trying to catch his footing, he stepped in a** bucket of paint** and slipped. Falling over, he desperately reached out to catch himself and his wrist bent backwards with a stomach churning snap as he hit the floor._

"Damn my wrist hurts," he winced.

She squeezed his hand and tenderly kissed his cheek.

* * *

"I can't do it, Greg."

"Yes, you can. For pure camaraderie."

After working to solve a triple homicide together, swing and grave shifts, minus a certain supervisor, sat at a bar off the strip. Sophia excused herself for the bathroom, so Greg announced the newest member needed to be hazed.

"It's easy. She comes back to the table. We lip lock. So does Warrick and Cath. Nick bats his eyes at her. **Sophia freaks out. **We laugh hysterically."

Sara downed another shot. "Fine."

When Greg grabbed her immediately for practice, the whole table was shocked.

Especially Grissom, who just arrived.

* * *

"They lost everything in a **house fire**." Catherine said with sadness in her voice.

"That's terrible." Nick sympathized.

"Yeah," Greg agreed. "And now that we know it was one of the kids the insurance company won't pay for it."

"Well, I heard that some, anonymous donor gave them ten grand to give them a new start," Catherine said.

Sara watched Grissom silently. Then, a faint smile crossed her lips. She'd seen him return to the scene and hand an envelope to the father as his wife and small children watched.

At that moment, she realized how much she loved him.

* * *

He sat quietly, but she knew he had something to say.

"It's just us," Catherine said. "Two friends and a bottle of vodka."

Sara had left seven weeks ago. Grissom understood each stage of grief he faced. The denial, anger, internal bargaining and the depression numbed.

"I keep seeing her the first time she left," he said out of the blue. "When I saw her in the hall, she looked like… I thought… '**Sara is hypnotized**.' And then she kissed me without a word."

He shook his head. He couldn't go on.

Something had to change. He couldn't face acceptance.

* * *

"I told you Hank wouldn't eat him." Sara smiled and playfully poked Grissom in the ribs.

"Yeah, yeah," he frowned. "Thanks to you my dog is now a sissy."

They watched as the boxer rolled around on the floor before jumping up and prancing like a puppy around the small, black kitten. Sara had rescued the tiny fur ball from a back alley crime scene and when she looked into those green eyes she fell in love.

"Stop it. **Midnight **is the perfect companion for Hank."

He rubbed her ass and grinned. "How about we go roll around like that?"

* * *

"Roller coaster safety can be iffy," Sara said as she and Grissom arrived at the lab.

Grissom still had the box of **popcorn** he bought at the carnival where a car flew off of the Sphinx coaster. "When tampered with?" Grissom offered the box to Sara. "Then I'd say, 'Yes.'"

Sara snatched some kernels. "Thanks."

They talked as Greg jogged up to them.

"Got some info for you," Greg reached into Grissom's box, only to have Grissom smack Greg's hand away.

"Man. Is anyone special enough to share popcorn with you?"

Grissom left with a wink.

**

* * *

**

**Twinkling lights **were scattered along the exterior of the house, blinking sporadically. Brass was immersed watching the Christmas decorations, lost in thought of another time when Ellie was a small child and still believed in Santa Claus.

_Instead of going home to play Santa, I stayed out drinking, then went home with Annie Kramer. _

_Annie, probably the only woman I've ever loved; and Ellie my only child._

His revelry was broken by Grissom nudging his side. "What we got?"

"Family of four murdered on Christmas eve."

'Damn." Grissom stated before walking toward the scene. "Merry Christmas, Jim."

* * *

"Nice landscaping," Sara said as she looked out the French doors at the crime scene.

"Remember, it's Vegas, Sar," Greg said as he opened the doors and they both walked outside with kits. "Looks can be deceiving."

Sara stepped on the **grass** and made a face. She stooped down and touched the ground. "Artificial grass?'

"Las Vegas offers homeowners discounts for the stuff," he said and they walked and processed. "Saves water. No pests. Preserves the environment."

Sara bent down again and took an implement out of her vest. "And, it preserves evidence." She easily swabbed the bloodstain she found.

* * *

He searched in the dark for his migraine medicine, because he didn't want to wake her. Between anxiety and humidity, Grissom hadn't slept in two weeks.

They kept their important documents and medication in a lockbox under their twin cots, which were pushed together. She awoke to find him looking at her **passport**.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm sorry..." He was going to put the document away, but couldn't stop looking at it. "I didn't know you went to Canada last February. Must have been cold."

She sat up. His voice wasn't bitter or angry. More empty. He sat next to her on her cot and showed her his passport. "My last stamp was in 2000, when I went to Amsterdam for a lecture."

"You get stoned there?"

Beams of moonlight illuminated his grin, causing her to smile softly.

"Sara.... Do you want me here... with you?"

"Of course."

"Because I don't want our lives to be this different," he said as he grasped the two passports. "I'm scared we're too out of sync, and these serve as proof."

"Don't. I know this isn't a visit. I trust you, Gil."

She surprised herself with the admission and suddenly walls crumbled.

* * *

TBC

A/N: If, by some odd chance, you have continued reading after that bizarre author's note, thank you. I kind of like one of these drabbles in particular. Hope you enjoyed a couple too. Two more sets left.


	19. Chapter 19

Who Drabbled What?  
Chapter Nineteen  
By MSCSIFANGSR, JellyBeanChiChi, and ELM22

Drabbles from last chapter: 171, 173, 175, 177, 179, 180 by JellyBeanChiChi; 178 by MSCSIFANGSR and 172, 174, 176 by ELM22.  
This last set was tricky. We had a four out of 10, a five out of a 10 and the winner with six out of 10. And who was that... Good job, Kadian. Silly, tell Grandma you beat Sylvie. Sylvie, un beau contestant comme vous-même mérite le "Dairy Milk!"

There are 2 types of drabbles in this chapter. The first set are triple drabbles are written with multi-word prompts and the second set are single drabble with one word/phrase prompts.

All the prompts in this Chapter given by **Mossley**: 181. Jalapeno jelly/Leash (Hank's) (Triple Drabble) 182. Warm water on her neck/Ice down his shorts (Triple Drabble) 183. Cold pizza/Candlelit (Triple Drabble) 184. Strong Breezes 185. Pillow 186. Neon 187. Laundry Soap 188. Fresh fruit 189. Bath towels 190. Soot.

* * *

Sara slathered the green **jalapeno jelly** across her toast with a butter knife. Her full cup of steaming coffee sat in a mug beside the small salad plate bearing her chopped fruit. She was looking forward to eating her breakfast undisturbed, when the doorbell rang. She ran upstairs quickly.

"Package for Mrs. Grissom!" Came the heavily accented southern voice on the other side of the door.

Sara looked through the peephole and saw the UPS delivery guy standing on the other side. She unhooked the chains and deadbolts and opened the front door of the townhouse.

"Sign here, and this is all yours," the man gestured toward the square cardboard brown box he was holding precariously on his hip as he handed her the digital clipboard.

"Thank you and have a good day," Sara murmured as she closed the door wondering what she'd received. She sat the box down on the Eames lounge chair and looked at the return address:

_Saint Germain-des-Pres, Paris, France._

She smiled and decided if the box contained a cocoon, she'd kill him.

Sara sighed and fumbled through the box, removing the brown paper packaging, she found something that inside made her smile brighten: a full color picture of Hank on a **leash **with a bundled up Grissom, wearing a black blazer and scarf, walking down their boulevard in Paris. She noticed Gil's hair was shorter and was much whiter than it had been before she had left this last time. She wondered why he'd sent it to her.

She flipped the picture over; _Voila!_ The answer appeared in his insolent scrawl:

_What's missing from this picture? You! Tell Ecklie to get off his ass and hire someone soon, so Hank and I can have you back to ourselves._

_Love, _

_Gil and Hank_

* * *

Greg spent the entire time at the scene complaining about the heat in the desert where a dead body had been found. Grissom wasn't happy with the new CSI-1, so he decided to head back to the lab with the body and leave Sara, Nick and Greg to comb the surrounding area for possible evidence.

Grissom left with an image of Sara pouring **warm water down her neck** from an extra water bottle and Greg's voice whining about the hot sun. He paused, staring at the young woman, but Greg's voice hastened him toward the Denali.

Sometime later, Greg stormed past Grissom's office. The supervisor thought the redness in Greg's face was due to the heat if he hadn't seen the anger in the young man's eyes.

"What's wrong with him?" Grissom asked Nick and Sara as they walked into his office.

"She put **ice down his shorts**." Nick laughed as he pointed to Sara with his thumb.

Grissom smirked as he turned his back to them and returned to his desk. Nick casually sat down on the chair in front of Grissom's desk, while Sara casually stood behind him.

Greg burst into the office, Sara stepped aside and Greg dumped a can of cola over Nick's head.

"Hey, why'd you do that?"

"Pay back for laughing at me." Greg laughed, but immediately saw Grissom's eyes upon him.

Grissom cleared his throat, "Greg, apologize to Nick."

"But Grissom..."

"Greg."

"Nick, I'm sorry for dumping soda on your head."

Nick nodded, but didn't say anything.

"Nick? Say you're sorry for laughing at Greg."

"Sorry, man."

"Sara?" He looked at the brunette attempting to hold back her laughter. "Apologize to Greg for putting ice down his pants."

"No."

"Why not?"

"He deserved it for whining at a crime scene."

Grissom concurred.

* * *

"What are our plans for tonight?" Sara wondered out-loud as they sat beside each other reading forensic journals, enjoying the quiet and a cup of coffee. Both had the evening off and although Sara usually planned romantic dinners; this time she left the evening to him.

Grissom cleared his throat. "A **candlelit **dinner consisting of **cold pizza** and beer?"

"Scintillating."

"Do I detect sarcasm in your voice?"

"Not at all; I'm merely looking forward to dessert."

Gil cleared his throat again. "Umm, Sara, I don't think there's anything for dessert in the refrigerator."

She sidled up to him, their bodies tight, close, co-mingling; the undercurrents of sexual tension sizzled as her tongue flicked the corner of his mouth.

"That's not exactly what I was talking about, Gilbert." She kissed him firmly on the lips, savoring the coffee flavor of his lips before she continued, "I'd like to make love to you over and over again."

Suddenly Sara didn't feel the couch under her butt anymore. Grissom had moved quickly and picked her up. In an effort to keep her dignity, she wrapped her long legs around his midsection; his newly raging hard-on coming into contact with her core.

Grissom's kisses completely overtook her senses. She felt like she was floating as his hands cupped her ass, squeezing gently but with firm pressure. She tightened her arms around his neck and allowed her fingers to skim through the softness of his hair.

His head pulled back from her lips, slightly. "What do you say we forget about our dinner plans and skip right to the dessert?" He groaned into her ear.

"I'd like that," she moaned as he dry humped his arousal into her, nearly sending her into premature orgasm.

He carried her quickly to their bedroom.

* * *

She stood on the boat deck as **strong breezes** whipped around her.

The last time she felt this sensation was on an anonymous beach in California where she contemplated her past, her present, but not her future; it was too difficult to decipher.

Before that, she had felt that same sensation for a brief moment as she stumbled alone in the Nevada desert. Such an unforgiving environment, but that temporary breeze allowed her to move forward.

Now, the breeze. Alone. Past put aside. Living for the present.

But her future?

She went to her cabin to make a video message.

* * *

Grissom's head sunk deeper in his **pillow** as he moaned and closed his eyes. Sara's face between his legs, he could feel her own moans as her mouth and tongue enveloped his shaft as she intimately caressed the cleft of his ass.

Her thumb, forefinger and palm of one hand joined her mouth to enhance the sensation. Her other hand cupped and fondled him. She knew he was on edge.

"Oh God," he said, his voice a desperate whisper. "Please hon."

He exploded with her name of his lips. After, she kissed him with his own essence upon her lips.

* * *

The sound of hammering woke Sara.

When she realized Grissom was puttering with his latest project outside, she enthusiastically bounded out of bed.

She entered the fenced backyard. Her curiosity surrounded Grissom's attire, not his project. She found Grissom in his old-school Dodgers cap, a faded and torn, bright yellow UCLA t-shirt, and his $2 **neon** orange, bargain bermuda shorts.

"Good morning. Did I wake you?"

Sara shrugged and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Actually, the phone rang."

"It did?"

"It was Jenny. You can call her back at 867-5309."

"Who?"

Sara laughed and swiped his baseball cap.

* * *

The suspect sat in the interrogation room and desperately tried to justify what CSIs found at his home.

"I swear to God, I thought it was **laundry soap**!"

"In three bricks of powder wrapped in plastic?" Greg said.

"I thought it was generic stuff you buy at big warehouse stores," the suspect said. "Low frills. Big deals."

"You really think I'm that stupid?" Vega said. "To believe you mistook thousands of dollars of cocaine for Tide?"

"No sir," the man said. "I'm saying that _I_ am that stupid."

"What about the bags of marijuana?" Greg asked.

"You mean the oregano?"

* * *

"I think we agree the suspect left town in a hurry," Nick said. "I found clothes hastily pulled out of drawers."

"Didn't find any passports, IDs. No cash," Sara reported.

"In the kitchen I found a bowl of **fresh fruit** that was spoiled," Greg said.

"Well, then you can't say it was fresh," Nick corrected.

"I understand that," Greg retorted, "but it was fresh at one time and has since ceased to be."

"Saying you found fresh fruit spoiled is a ... what do you call that Sar?"

"Oxymoron."

"Yeah. Admit it, Greg, you used an oxymoron."

"You're an oxymoron."

* * *

Jeannette Walsh loved to watch her foster child do laundry.

Fifteen-year-old Sara Sidle tackled the chore with precision. Jeannette knew Sara's mind calculated the bleach to detergent ratio for whites; the exact time to add softener; how the timing for drying clothing differed for delicates, cotton clothes and **bath towels**.

"You amaze me Sara," Jeannette said as she helped fold.

"Because of how I do laundry? Nobody cares about that."

"This task shows you are thorough and thoughtful," Jeannette said lovingly. "Someday, I promise, you will find a man who loves and appreciates your meticulous nature."

Sara snorted. "Yeah right."

* * *

Young Gil Grissom helped a handyman pave a driveway when they heard screams from inside the house.

They found two teenage girls cowering in the kitchen. A huge spider slowly crept toward them.

Gil used a sheet of paper to scoop up the large arachnid. "Don't worry. It's not a brown recluse. Just a wolf spider."

He grinned, but the girls laughed. "You better go outside before you get **soot** all over our house, freak."

Gil left silently.

"Stupid bitches," the handyman said outside. "Someday you'll find a woman who appreciates a hard-workin' genius like you."

Gil snorted. "Yeah right."

* * *

TBC

A/N: I wanted to thank all our readers, and especially our reviewers. The gang who have been reviewing are a great group of people. Between the stuff said in reviews, review replies and replies to review replies, I've been laughing a lot. And that's a great gift. So thanks to all the reviewers. You guys and gals make my day.  
This is the second to last chapter, and the last set to offer guesses. The next set is five prompts from MS that Jelly did; and five prompts from Jelly that MS wrote.


	20. Chapter 20

Who Drabbled What?  
Chapter Twenty  
By MSCSIFANGSR, JellyBeanChiChi and sometimes ELM22.

Drabbles from last chapter: 184, 185, 186, 187, 188, 189, 190 by JellyBeanChiChi; 181, half of 182, 183 by MSCSIFANGSR and the other half of 182 by ELM22.  
WINNERS: Silly 6 of 10; Kadian 9.5 of 10. Muy bien!

Prompts given by **JellyBeanChiChi **for MSCSIFANGSR to write: 191. Light Saber 192. Apparition 193. Sting 194. Asshole 195. Cervantes.  
Prompts given by **MSCSIFANGSR** for JellyBeanChiChi to write: 196. Elvis 197. File 198. Venice 199. Paperback Novel 200. Dresser.

So there's no need for anyone to guess on this last set...  
And isn't it just darn appropriate that we post this last chapter on the morning of the victory of the New Orleans Saints over the Indianapolis Colts? She's been cautious all season, but MS was in the Who Dat? Nation for the game and probably is still partying. So everyone chant --- WHO DAT?!

We'd like to thank everyone who kindly gave us a prompt; thanks to ELM for taking up MSCSIFANGSR's slack; thanks to everyone who read and/or reviewed, even if some of us had to threaten their own children into leaving reviews. ("That was MSCSIFANGSR! Not me. I'd never do something like that," said JellyBean. "Me neither. Gross!" exclaimed ELM.)

* * *

Sanders jumped out of the DNA lab into the immediate paths of Sara and Grissom.

Greg waved a make-shift **light saber**; the gesture made Sara shift reflexively backwards into the chest of her boss, whose hands reached to steady the woman around her waist.

"Ah, Han Solo. Princess Leia."

Sara quickly countered with, "Darth Vader?"

"Yeah. The DNA matches your prime suspect from the murder at the Star Wars Convention."

"And?" Grissom growled.

"And nothing, that's all I got, except this cool toy." Greg countered.

With his hands still wrapped on Sara's hips, Grissom thought his toy was cooler.

* * *

Sara's eyes adjusted slowly to the dim light in the club; her ears were sweetly assaulted with the sounds of soft live jazz.

She slowly walked to the bar, then placed her order with the bartender.

The music stopped and before she could properly slip off her jacket, an **apparition** appeared in her mind, sliding onto the bar stool beside her.

She could almost hear Warrick's voice speaking to her as she turned to the empty stool beside her.

She shook her head, wondering if Warrick hadn't died, would she be sitting in a Paris bar waiting for her husband.

* * *

"I love this song," Sara murmured against his neck.

She swayed in his arms as they danced to the soft strands of **Sting**.

Their bodies were tightly pressed together tripping the light fantastic smoothly with the music.

"You still touch me," he moaned as she took his earlobe in her mouth.

They continued moving in rhythm with the music and with each other.

Neither noticed the lone woman sitting at the bar staring at them intently while sketching their movements on her newsprint artist pad.

The woman watched as the couple left the establishment, still wrapped in each other's arms.

* * *

Captain James Brass was livid.

He wanted to punch someone, preferably the man who'd just left.

The suspect in his latest case had an apparent alibi, then walked out of the police station a free man with a smug smile accompanied by his lawyer.

"What kinda **asshole** kills his own kid then leaves here with a smile on his face?"

Grissom stood beside the black opaque interrogation table. "We'll get him, Jim; we haven't found the right evidence, but we will. How about a drink?"

"How about we go to my office, Gil? I still got that bottle from Christmas."

* * *

"Nine letter word, clue: 'Author of first modern novel'." Nick asked Riley first, who shrugged her shoulders, then he looked to Greg, and then Catherine.

Catherine lamented, "Gil would have known right off the bat."

Greg piped in, "Sara would have, too."

"I can't believe they got married," Nick paused. "I never really could picture them together in the jungle. I'm happy for them, though."

Ray Langston walked in and Nick repeated the crossword clue.

Professor Langston replied immediately, "**Cervantes**."

Catherine laughed, "We have Ray, now."

"And it fits." Nick filled in the clue with pencil, just in case.

* * *

When Sara realized Grissom talked in his sleep she found an entertaining diversion to her insomnia. Especially when his sleep-talking combined with some sleep-humping.

Like the time Grissom must have dreamed he was **Elvis**.

While he spooned her in his sleep, Sara felt a familiar pressure in her backside, but more enthusiastic than usual. Plus, Grissom spoke an interesting phrase with an interesting accent.

"You like how that feels, darlin'? How 'bout if the King of Rock-n-Roll shows you his genuine pelvic thrust."

She giggled her answer. "Sure thing."

Then she heard him snoring.

Sara sighed. Another night, perhaps.

* * *

Their conversation replayed in his mind. Why did he say what he did? She's so stubborn. Couldn't she see he was hurting? Why couldn't they meet each other halfway?

What did she want?

WHAT!

"Dr. Grissom? I have that **file** you asked for."

Grissom glared at the man at his door. He worked in archives and Grissom didn't know his name.

"You need to learn to knock."

The man fumbled. "I did, sir. I thought I heard you..."

Grissom unknowingly voiced his last thought. Grissom felt defeated. "Leave it and close the door."

He closed it. Just like Sara had.

* * *

"This reminds me of something I learned while slightly tipsy a couple of weeks ago," Greg said as he dusted Venetian blinds for prints.

"Do tell," Sara replied.

"I googled why these things are called Venetian."

"Oh, Greg, age has mellowed you."

"They're very cultural, these blinds, and you're dying to know."

"OK. Go ahead."

"They were patented by a British dude, possibly invented by the Japanese, and early Venetians brought the idea from Persia to **Venice**, and then to France."

"The French name for Venetian blinds is 'Les Persienes.'"

Greg smiled. "You miss him, don't you?"

"Yeah, I do."

* * *

He spoke in a seductive voice as he peppered her body with passionate kisses.

"Ton amour est précieux comme l'or."

"Je rêve de tes yeux, jour et nuit."

"Etre dans tes bras, c'est mon destin."

Sara lay dreamingly in his embrace. "I hope you didn't learn these phrases of love from a private tutor."

Grissom smiled and nodded toward the nightstand. Sara reached for the French-language **paperback novel **with the seductive cover.

"How did you decipher the love phrases from the ones talking about grocery shopping?"

He spent an inordinate time on her neck and earlobe before muttering. "Online translator."

* * *

Grissom entered the breakroom with his newspaper under his arm. "Hello, Greg."

Greg took a sip of coffee. He offered no more acknowledgment for Grissom, the man who let Sara get away.

Grissom knew Greg blamed him for her absence, so he took Greg's iciness in stride and sat with his crossword. Grissom answered only two clues before he received a text. While Grissom nodded goodbye, Greg said nothing.

When Grissom left, Greg grabbed the newspaper. He knew it was petty to complete the Grissom's crossword (again), but he did it anyway.

He completed five answers before 21 across: an author of a quote whose name included the "d" in "**dresser**" and the "i" in "patience."

Greg read the long quote: "You can shed tears that she is gone, or you can smile because she has lived. You can close your eyes and pray that she'll come back, or you can open your eyes and see all she's left.

"Your heart can be empty because you can't see her, or you can be full of the love you shared." **

Suddenly, Greg felt sympathy for Grissom.

He put down the paper. Grissom should be the one to answer 21 across.

* * *

_** quote is by David Harkins_

THE END

A/N: We'd also like to thank our readers, some of which would love more drabbles. No promises. But we shall see. We hoped you enjoyed them. I really enjoyed writing them.  
And the drabbles for my prompts were done great. I think apparition might be my favorite.  
So, MS? Did you like the drabbles to your prompts? You never said. You really should review :-)

Oh, and for those of you not familiar with French, some translations. Thanks to Sylvie for the help.:  
"Ton amour est précieux comme l'or." -- "Your love is as precious as gold."  
"Je rêve de tes yeux, jour et nuit." -- "I dream of your eyes, day and night."  
"Etre dans tes bras, c'est mon destin." -- "It is my destiny to be in your arms." (I like that one :)


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